Wake-Up Call
by Rose Malmaison
Summary: Just back from being an Agent Afloat, Tony finds Gibbs is surly, Vance is eying him like he wants to send him back to sea, and Jimmy Palmer is offering him refuge. Unfortunately, Tony is hurt in a scuffle and tries to hide his injury. - Slash, first time, Gibbs/DiNozzo, angst, h/c, spoilers S6 Agent Afloat. Written for NCIS BIgBang 2013 on LJ. Complete.
1. Chapter 1

**Wake-up Call by rose_malmaison****  
**Pairing: Gibbs/DiNozzo  
Rating: Adult for language, sex  
Genre: Pre-slash, slash, angst, h/c, romance Gibbs-style  
Spoilers: Season 6, September 2008, up to Agent Afloat  
Characters: Gibbs, DiNozzo, Ducky, Jimmy Palmer, Abby, Tim, Ziva, Vance and Balboa.  
Betas: selenic76 and combatcrazy

NOTES: Written for the NCIS BigBang 2013. 50,000 words in 13 chapters. Art by kj_svala can be seen at the LJ BigBang site and my own LJ.

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**CHAPTER 1**

_From the 1997 film Playing God_

_Eugene: Sometimes we all wonder how things come to be. A chain of events: A leads to B leads to C leads to Z. Each life is made up of big decisions and each day is made up of a million little decisions. What shirt to wear, what street to walk on, what to eat for lunch. Now all of these seemingly inconsequential choices may change your life forever._

**October 2008**

"Tony! Tony, Tony! You're back!"

Tony turned to meet Abby, who ran across the bullpen with her arms outstretched and enveloped him in the biggest hug he'd had in months. God, it was good to be home. He said as much, gave her a squeeze and then stepped back. He had to get his emotions in line before he embarrassed himself in front of everyone. They were all beaming – Abby, Tim and Ziva – and talking at the same time. Tony let it all wash over him. It felt so good, so heartwarming to have his friends around him, at last. Even Gibbs was giving him a smile, although it was slightly reserved.

Tony leaned slightly forward and spoke over his friends and teammates. "Hey, Boss. Talk to Vance?"

"Yeah."

Okay, that was sort of sour. Tony felt someone watching them and he glanced up to find that Vance was leaning over the balcony. Tony tensed at the scrutiny although it was apparent that their new director was watching Gibbs, and not him. Vance was waiting for something to happen, like a cat watching its prey. Turning back, Tony saw a glint of warning in Gibbs' eyes and he gave a small nod to show that he understood.

Abby was asking, "You're back? For reals? Like, total reals? Like... pinky promise permanent reals?"

Tony said, never taking his eyes off Gibbs, "Reassigned to D.C. effective immediately. Director just told me."

Gibbs quickly turned and sent a blistering look Vance's way. It was clear that the director hadn't told him that he was getting his senior field agent back. Vance had been playing Gibbs for no reason other than to put him in his place, which made Tony dislike the man even more. When he glanced up a minute later, Vance had retreated to his office.

Gibbs sat on the edge of a desk and looked at Tony intently as if waiting for him to make the first move, so Tony leaned forward, extending his hand. Gibbs seemed relieved. He shook Tony's hand and welcomed his agent back with a genuine smile that made the corners of his eyes crease. His handshake was warm and firm, and Tony found that the brief moment of contact almost made up for the loneliness of the past few months.

McGee caught Tony's attention and said, "Never thought I'd say this, Tony, but it is nice to have you back."

Ziva smiled and said, "I believe I missed you, too, Tony, though I am not sure why. Like McGee says, it is nice."

Abby protested, "Nice? It's, like, spectacular. I kept every one of your postcards, Tony, and I have a whole DiNozzo wall in my lab."

"It was a long four months," Tony admitted. "I've got to say it's great to be home. Not that I didn't think I wouldn't be coming back..." Tony watched Gibbs' eyes and saw them flicker. Was that guilt his boss was feeling?

"So, anyway," said Abby, "Sister Rosita, she bowled a 260 last month…"

Tony let Abby's chatter wash over him, not really listening, he was so focused on Gibbs. Tony wanted to have some time alone with him, but it looked like it was going to have to wait until things calmed down a little. The air between them needed clearing before he could move ahead, and even if Gibbs wasn't a 'talk to me' kind of guy, at least he would listen. Foremost on Tony's mind was why had it taken so long to bring him home? And then there was the matter of Director Shepard's death – the elephant in the room – and no matter how painful it might be, they had to talk about it sometime. This was a new chapter in Tony's life and he was determined to start with a clean slate.

Abby, thrilled that Tony was finally back, clung to him and wouldn't stop talking about everything that had been going on in his absence. Tony didn't have the heart to stop her but she did calm down a little after he pointed out, "You emailed me regular updates, remember?"

"I know, but it's not the same," she insisted, squeezing his arm. "It's you, really you, in the flesh. Isn't this great, Gibbs? Now everyone is home, where they belong."

Gibbs agreed, "Good to have the team back."

Jimmy Palmer joined them and welcomed Tony with a grin and a slap on the shoulder. Tony turned and found himself being hugged enthusiastically. "Hey, I thought that hugs were Abby's job," Tony joked.

"Just glad to see you," said Jimmy, with a bright smile. "I got everything ready, so whenever you want to go…"

Tony looked over at Gibbs only to find him glaring at the both of them, his eyes darkening when Jimmy slung one arm around Tony's shoulder in a casual gesture. Jimmy was oblivious to Gibbs' black looks but Tony wasn't. Jimmy's arm dropped away and he stepped over to talk to Abby, but Gibbs was still looking at Jimmy like he was itching to slap him. It amused Tony that their brief embrace, if you could call it that, managed to push Gibbs' buttons. He would have made a joke about Gibbs' prickly attitude towards the autopsy gremlin, but he was too beat to put any effort into it. It had been a long day and the flight from Cartagena had been rough. As it was, Tony had to stifle a yawn. He wished he were in bed…any bed. Even the chair behind his desk looked inviting.

The second time Tony yawned, Palmer grabbed his bag and said, "C'mon, let's get you home. I'll drive."

"Hey. Be here tomorrow at 0800 sharp, DiNozzo," Gibbs ordered.

"But Boss, I just got back. I need to a day off to–"

Gibbs snapped, "You got a problem with coming back to work here?"

Tony stared at Gibbs, wondering what had caused such a turnaround. The talking stopped – even Abby was silent – and Tony could feel his friends stepping closer, forming a wall behind him. Tony forced himself to relax and said, "No problem, Boss."

Someone touched Tony's arm. It was Palmer, who said in a quiet voice, "Let's go, Tony."

Tony refused to look at Gibbs but he could feel his eyes following him as he walked with his teammates to the elevator. When the doors began to close, Tony turned and looked across the squad room. He expected to see Gibbs still standing in the bullpen, but he had disappeared.

«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»

During the long flight back to DC from Cartagena – when they were somewhere over Cuba, Tony guessed – he had sent off a text message to Jimmy Palmer, asking him if he knew anywhere he could stay for a short while, just until he found a place to rent. Palmer had been quick to reply that he had a pullout couch and if Tony wanted to move in with him, well, it would be nice to have the company, and also he could use a few extra bucks. So even before Tony set foot on American soil for the first time in four months, he had a place to stay and a friend who extended a helping hand.

By mutual agreement, both Palmer and Tony decided to keep their living arrangements quiet, if only to avoid all the ribbing they'd get for living in such close quarters. Keeping it a secret lasted only until the next morning when Tony returned to work at 0730.

Gibbs strode up to Tony's desk and asked abruptly, "You moved, DiNozzo?"

"Uh, not exactly." Out of habit, Tony looked around to see if anyone was within earshot, but luckily McGee and Ziva hadn't arrived yet. "McGee sublet my place for me while I was away," Tony replied slowly, leaning back in his chair. He wondered how Gibbs knew he wasn't living at his own place right now. Except, he was Gibbs, so of course he found out everything eventually. Then it struck him that Gibbs must have gone by his condo last night and discovered that someone else was living there. Tony couldn't help laughing. "You bang on my door last night and scare that nice young couple?"

A slightly guilty look passed over Gibbs' features but it was gone just as quickly as it had appeared. He said flatly, "You found somewhere else to live."

"With a friend," Tony said, uneasy about where this was leading.

Gibbs extended his hand, palm up. "Then you've got a key for me," he said, looking expectant.

Gibbs' attitude was beginning to irk Tony, so he crossed his arms over his chest and said, "Well you see, I don't have a key. I haven't had a chance to look for another place to live yet because my boss won't give me a day off."

Gibbs narrowed his eyes. "I still need a key."

"Why?" Tony asked, thinking he couldn't just hand over a key to Palmer's home, not even to Gibbs.

Gibbs blinked, apparently not expecting Tony to be difficult. "I need it for emergencies."

Like hell he did. They both knew that Gibbs was perfectly capable – and willing – to pick a lock, and if that didn't work out he could always break the door down. Except Tony couldn't recall there ever being a situation when Gibbs needed immediate access to any of his agents' homes. It was as though he was demanding a key just to make it clear that he was the boss. As if anyone had any doubt about that.

"Well, I only have one key and I can't give it to you, Gibbs." The dangerous expression that flamed across Gibbs' face induced Tony to add, "If you really want one, you'll have to ask Jimmy."

Gibbs made a throaty sound and slammed a hand down on Tony's desk, making his stapler jump. "Jimmy _Palmer_?"

Tony pushed his chair back and stood to meet his boss face to face. He said defiantly, "Yes, Jimmy Palmer. Is there some problem about who I bunk with, Boss? What, did you make up a rule 12-B when I was gone?"

"Just get me a key, DiNozzo, by tomorrow," Gibbs said tersely and stalked back to his desk.

Great, his first day back and he'd already made Gibbs mad at him. Exhaling a breath he hadn't known he was holding, Tony sat down and ducked behind his computer to wait for his heart to stop beating like he'd been chased across an impound lot by a guard dog. He could hear Gibbs banging his desk drawers and there was some under-the-breath swearing, and when things quietened down, Tony peeked out. Gibbs was reading some paperwork, using a flat magnifying sheet in his hand. Tony recognized the magnifier as a gift he'd given his boss last Christmas and it made him smile.

A short time later, when Gibbs got up without a word and headed towards the elevator, a man on a mission, Tony had a chance to think about what had occurred. No doubt about it, it was odd, the way Gibbs had not only insisted that Tony hand over a key, but the way he had turned surly when Tony hadn't immediately complied. Gibbs had never demanded a key before, not in this manner. He'd _asked_ for one, but he'd never been so overbearing about it. This seemed somehow personal.

When Gibbs returned, coffee in hand, looking somewhat less bent out of shape, Tony watched him from under his eyelashes. Normally he loved a mystery, especially when it centered on human behavior – or anything relating to Gibbs. No matter how hard he tried, Tony couldn't figure out what was making Gibbs act like a bear emerging from hibernation.

Vance – it had to have something to do with Director Leon Vance. Everything had been fine right up until the point when Gibbs had discovered that Vance had been keeping him on tenterhooks over Tony's reinstatement. Gibbs had every right to be pissed with the man, but that didn't explain why he was being so testy with Tony.

Of course Vance wasn't Tony's favorite person. Right from the start, the new director had made it clear that he had considered bringing Tony up on charges for dereliction of duty, due to Director Jenny Shepard's death. It was obvious that SecNav didn't want any backlash about the shooting out in the desert, and the circumstances surrounding her death had been hushed up. Instead, Vance assigned him to the Agent Afloat position to get rid of him.

«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»

The night Tony returned, during his reinstatement meeting, Director Vance sat at his desk and looked at his agent with displeasure. "Against my better judgment, I'm going to give you another chance, Agent DiNozzo."

"Thank you, Director," Tony said, hoping he didn't sound too relieved.

Vance raised a hand. "The frequency with which field agents are hurt on the job casts a negative light on NCIS, and the number rose to new heights during my predecessor's time." He picked up a paper on his desk and looked from whatever was written upon it to Tony, as if weighing him up. "Your name appears at the top of this list, Agent, and even while you were at sea, you were injured on several occasions. I know your type. You're a risk-taker, cutting corners in order to get the collar, not following protocol. You have been at NCIS long enough to know we don't do things that way here. This has to change."

Tony heard the 'or else' loud and clear even though Vance didn't say it aloud. Never mind that Gibbs' team had the top closure rate in the agency, and that Gibbs – and Mike Franks before him – had set the precedent for doing whatever it took to get the job done.

Vance warned, "SecNav is watching this agency closely during the next few weeks, so don't mess this up. I'm going to be keeping an eye on you."

"I'll make sure I don't step in front of any bullets or speeding cars until the review is over, Director," Tony said, thinking that he'd definitely be keeping any minor injuries to himself from now on. Well, he usually did that anyway. Unfortunately, Gibbs or Ducky noticed such things and then forced Tony to go to the hospital. He'd just have to be extra careful if anything occurred.

For a moment Vance narrowed his eyes, and then he nodded and said, "Good, Agent DiNozzo, because I intend to run a tight ship. There is no room for mistakes. Understand?"

"Understood, Director." Obviously, shipshape or ship out was the directive. One thing for sure, no way was Tony going to rock the boat now that he was home again.

«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»

Tony chewed on the end of a pen while he thought about it. Vance had intended him to serve the full two years, only Gibbs had taken matters into his own hands and had brought him back from exile. Was Vance giving Gibbs a hard time about it, pressuring him to get rid of his lead agent?

Without looking up from his paperwork, Gibbs said sharply, "DiNozzo, if you're daydreaming about being back at sea, I can arrange a transfer at any time."

Transfer? No, he was not going back to that ship! Or any ship, for that matter. "No, sir!" Tony replied before he could think.

Gibbs raised his blue eyes and sent a hard stare Tony's way.

Tony swallowed hard. "Um, I mean, no, _Boss_. Not daydreaming. Thinking. Thinking without any daydreaming at all. Thinking about what I'm going to do with a hundred emails in my in-box and I…uh…I'll just go back to work now." The next time Tony dared to look up, Gibbs was striding out of the bullpen and heading upstairs in the direction of Vance's office.

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	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2**

"Grab your gear!"

How many times over the years had they heard Gibbs call out those words? This time the victim was a young woman, Lieutenant Commander Carrie McLellan, found face down in a pond in the middle of DC. At first it seemed to be business as usual but then Gibbs started acting in a very un-Gibbs-like manner. First of all, he left the crime scene without any explanation and the team had to finish processing the evidence on their own. They were perfectly capable of doing so, but it was unusual enough for Ziva, McGee and Tony to look at each other with raised eyebrows.

Then, a couple of hours later, they watched from the bullpen as Gibbs escorted a good-looking man in his fifties upstairs for a private word with Vance.

Following Gibbs and the visitor with suspicious eyes, Ziva hissed, "Who is that? He walks like a soldier."

Tony replied, "Not a soldier, a Marine. Gibbs' old Desert Storm buddy, Senator Patrick Kiley. The one who's been trying to push that big energy bill through. Vote's coming up in a few days."

"You think the senator's a suspect?" asked McGee in a low voice.

Tony said firmly, "No. If he was, he'd already be in interrogation."

"Perhaps Gibbs is doing him a favor," suggested Ziva.

Tony shook his head. "I don't care who he is, Gibbs would never do anything to harm the integrity of an investigation." That much he was sure of.

«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»

If it was any consolation, Gibbs was brusque with everyone – and not just Tony – throughout the course of the investigation. At one point he even raised his voice to Abby when she questioned him about his theory, and Gibbs _never_ shouted at Abby. Something definitely wasn't right in Gibbs-land.

It only took a few days and a couple of false leads to determine that Senator Patrick Kiley and his wife had murdered the senator's mistress, Carrie McLellan. They had also suffocated Kiley's chief of staff in an attempt to cover up their crime.

Tony never thought he'd see the day when Gibbs allowed sentiment and an old friendship to cloud his judgment but was pretty obvious to him that Gibbs had ignored his gut on that one before he came to his senses.

It must have cut Gibbs to the core to discover that his friends of many years had been lying to his face. The senator and his wife had used him and he'd had fallen for it. "You traded on our friendship," Gibbs said, his whole body stiff with outrage when he arrested Kiley on murder charges. Tony didn't like to engage in 'what ifs' but it was obvious that if they had confronted the senator after the first murder, his chief of staff would still be alive. No wonder Gibbs had been acting like a bear, with something like that weighing heavily on him.

Gibbs apologized to Abby, with a kiss and a few words in her ear, but he seemed to be struggling with something and his mood remained dark for days.

«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»

Ziva leaned casually against her desk and fanned herself with her passport, smiling smugly when she saw Tony eyeing her.

He stepped out from behind his desk and sauntered over to ask, "And where are you going, my little world traveler? Back to Israel now that the case is over?"

McGee tore his eyes away from his computer screen long enough to explain, "Europe, to work with the joint task force that's investigating that gunrunning operation.

"The one that's using bogus Navy vessels for transport?" asked Tony.

"Mmm. I am going to sunny Italy, Spain…Portugal," Ziva said with a dreamy smile. "I can work on my tan while I am working."

Tony turned to McGee and demanded, "Italy? Portugal? Why does she get to go to Europe and not me, McTravelPlans?"

McGee picked up a soda he had on his desk and shrugged. "Girls just get to have fun?"

"'I wanna be the one to walk in the sun'?" Tony asked.

"With heavy weapons," McGee pointed out.

Ziva's chin went up. "First of all, I am fluent in six more languages than you are, Tony. And second, while McGee and I have been working hard for the past four months, you have been cruising for Navy men."

McGee choked on his soda and Ziva sent him a puzzled frown. "Is that not correct?"

"Only if you think that Tony is really Al Pacino," McGee said with a laugh. "I don't think Tony was cruising, Ziva."

"Whoa, McEntertainment," said Tony, delighted. "I can see you've spent your summer honing your movie skills. Going places you've never been before?"

Turning pink, McGee admitted, "Abby made me watch _Cruising_, and _Sea of Love_, too."

Tony said enthusiastically, "Oh yeah, Pacino with Ellen Barkin! Hot _hot_ love scenes."

Gibbs swept into the bullpen, coffee in one hand, paperwork in the other. "Yeah, well things are gonna get hot around here real soon, DiNozzo, if you don't get back to work. Ziva, get a move on. Don't miss your flight. McGee, you've been scheduled to testify on the Steiner case starting tomorrow." He slapped the papers on McGee's desk before turning to look Tony up and down. "Looks like it's going to be just you and me, DiNozzo. Think you can handle that?"

A smile slowly spread across Tony's face until it became a grin. "Hey, just like old times, Boss! We handled all our cases just fine for over a year, the two of us. Our close rate was the best." He smirked at Ziva, who was busy checking her firearm while pretending she wasn't listening. "No probies to slow us down."

Ziva rolled her eyes and zippered her bag.

Gibbs countered, "Let's hope you don't make the same old probie mistakes, DiNozzo, like using the cooler for your cans of soda instead of putting the evidence in it."

Tony cringed at the memory. "That only happened once and, in my own defense, it _was_ a really hot day."

"All the more reason to use the cold box for the evidence," Gibbs retorted sharply.

Slinging her bag over her shoulder, Ziva paused at Tony's desk on her way out. "P-p-probie," she taunted in a loud whisper.

«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»

Working closely with Gibbs without the buffer of his teammates put a whole new spin on things.

Gibbs seemed to enjoy having Tony all to himself, but not in a good way. All of a sudden he was treating Tony like a freshman pledge, pushing him hard and giving him all the grunt work. Well, of course he had to, Tony reasoned, as there wasn't anyone else to do it. Still, Gibbs was being a bit too enthusiastic about ordering Tony to dig through dumpsters and crawl under cars sitting in pools of oil in search of evidence.

Brushing off his soiled pants after a foray into a particularly filthy alleyway, Tony suggested hopefully, "How about we commandeer one of the junior agents? Just for a few days? Can I have my very own probie, please?"

Gibbs snapped, "You get soft while you were out on the _Seahawk_, DiNozzo? You need a wet-behind-the-ears probie to do your work for you now?"

What could he say? _No, I worked my ass off when I was on board, Boss, just like I've always done, which you know damned well since I've been working with you for the past seven years. On board I dealt with ID fraud, illegal gambling, smuggling and theft on both ships, and a serious breach of security on the _Reagan_ – all on my own_.

Tony forced himself to smile while he said, "Yeah, must have been all the time I spent sunning myself on the poop deck that made me soft. You know those big ships just run themselves."

When Gibbs slapped the back of his head, it was no more than a tap, and Tony noticed that Gibbs didn't have his usual satisfied expression on his face afterwards. He almost seemed dispirited as he walked away. Yes, there was definitely something going on with the man and it gave Tony a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach.

«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»

Tony had always been able to read his boss but now things weren't so clear. It was as if Gibbs was purposely trying to rile him, and if that's what he intended, he was doing a damned good job of it. Even Abby thought that Gibbs had a bug up his ass, and this was coming from the woman who always thought that Gibbs could do no wrong.

Tony ran down to talk to Abby in her lab as soon as Gibbs went into a meeting upstairs. He asked softly, "Abby, do you think this is about Jenny getting killed?"

"You think he blames you for that?" Abby shook her head but Tony could see her thinking it through. "No," she said decisively. "Gibbs might have been angry and upset, but he knew Madame Director well enough to know she manipulated you, Tony. You and Mike Franks, although Mike probably went along with her scheme for kicks because ever since he retired he's been bored out of his skull, although spending all day drinking and fishing on a beautiful beach in the Baja isn't the worst way to live out your days…unless you're a retired agent who's looking for something to do because you're bored out of your skull." Abby stopped and shook her head a little to get back on track. "You were caught between a rock and a hard place, Tony. Gibbs understands. I know he does, and he can't hold it against you when Jenny gave you a direct order to keep the hell out of her personal mission." Abby gave Tony a big hug as if that would make everything all better.

It didn't, not by a long shot, even if it was nice.

That afternoon, Tony's request for a day off later sometime that week resulted in a glare from Gibbs and a flat out, "No."

Tony wasn't looking for any special favors but he needed time to breathe after coming off four months at sea. Not only was his housing situation not sorted out yet, but most of his belongings were still in transit from the _Seahawk_. Probably lost at sea, the way his luck was going. The rest of his things were locked in a storage facility and he hadn't had a chance to get them out. Not that he could keep more than the minimum of clothing and personal items on hand because Palmer's place was pretty small.

Tony sighed and looked at his boss, who was slowly but efficiently working his way through a pile of case-related paperwork. He noticed the lines near Gibbs' mouth, and creases around his eyes that hadn't been quite so obvious a few months ago. It was obvious that the stress of the job was taking its toll, and Tony kicked himself for being just one more reason that Gibbs was having a hard time lately.

Tony opened the bottom drawer of his desk, the one where he kept Gibbs' medals, and pulled out a pair of reading glasses. He went over to stand in front of Gibbs' desk and when Gibbs paid no attention, Tony cleared his throat.

Very slowly, Gibbs looked up, his expression unreadable.

Tony almost retreated but he now knew this remote expression was just a reflection of whatever was wrong with his boss. It was up to him to do his part to make things easier for Gibbs in any way he could. He reached out and took the pile of papers Gibbs had been making his way through. "I'll take care of these, Boss," said Tony. "Oh, and here's a spare pair of your reading glasses. I'll order a few extra, just in case."

Gibbs stared at Tony for a long moment and then nodded curtly. Tony put the eyeglasses on Gibbs' desk and went back to work, thinking that this was like chipping at an impenetrable rock.

Tony was still plugging away at the paperwork two hours later when Gibbs plunked a cup of coffee down in front of him. "Oh, thanks," Tony said, grateful for the coffee. It might be small gesture but Tony knew that it was Gibbs' way of apologizing.

Gibbs nodded and said, "Don't work too late on those papers."

"No, Boss. I can finish them in a couple of hours." More like three, thought Tony, glancing at the clock. He'd be home by midnight but that was okay.

Gibbs nodded and the corner of his mouth lifted just a little and Tony smiled back. Maybe things weren't quite as bad as he'd thought and now that the team was back together, Gibbs would revert to his usual self.

«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»

Tony stood shoulder to shoulder with Gibbs in front of the plasma screen while he clicked through the information he'd put together on their latest case. "Lieutenant Joseph Hannaford was found dead in his bunk aboard the US Naval hospital ship _Mercy_. The doctor who performed the shipboard autopsy concluded that the lieutenant had died from an overdose of his own prescription medication."

"Who's the agent on board?" asked Gibbs, looking interested.

"The Agent Afloat is Special Agent Kennedy. He conducted an investigation and determined the lieutenant's death to be a suicide." Looking at Gibbs, Tony said, "And you have a conference scheduled with him in MTAC in ten minutes, Boss. Director Vance says he wants another set of eyes on this. Apparently he knew Lieutenant Hannaford and he expects us to make sure the investigation is thorough." Tony managed, barely, to refrain from rolling his eyes.

Gibbs snapped, "Our investigations are always thorough."

"Yes, Boss. That's exactly what I told him."

Gibbs eyed Tony and after a moment grunted and said, "You're with me, DiNozzo."

Tony happily followed Gibbs up to MTAC and stood at his side during the brief conference with the agent aboard the hospital ship. As soon as the introductions were made, Director Vance joined them and stood on Gibbs' other side without greeting him.

Special Agent Kennedy gave them the details of the case and then said that it bothered him that there was nothing to indicate that Lieutenant Hannaford had been contemplating taking his own life. "He was steady, hard-working, and dedicated, and he wasn't involved in anything classified. His friends and colleagues onboard are shocked. Nobody saw any sign of depression or mental instability."

Vance ordered Special Agent Kennedy to have the body transferred to NCIS headquarters. "I want Dr. Mallard to perform a second autopsy, Kennedy. We need to make sure."

Up on the big screen, Kennedy looked relieved. "I'll have the remains transferred stateside on the next transport, Director Vance. Oh, and uh, Lieutenant Hannaford kept an apartment in DC. It'll be a real pain for me to leave the ship right now. Think your guys can run out there and check it out?"

Vance didn't even look at Gibbs and Tony when he said, "My people will investigate from this end."

«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»

"No signs of struggle or use of force," Ducky determined, once the body had been transferred to NCIS and he'd completed the second autopsy. "Most people who commit suicide do not leave a note, nor do they give any indication they want to take their own lives."

"Do we need to go out to the _Mercy_?" Gibbs asked as he looked through the photographs of the crime scene that Special Agent Kennedy had sent along with the body.

Ducky peered at him over the top of his glasses. "I cannot see any need for you to make the trip, Jethro. The evidence is quite clear-cut. Death by suicide."

"If you say it's suicide, Duck, then that's what it is," Gibbs said. "Let's wrap this up and get the report to Vance."

"Thank God," Tony muttered. The last thing he wanted was an investigation that took them out to sea. He'd had enough of big ships and vast oceans to last him a lifetime.

Gibbs frowned at Tony across the autopsy table. "You got a problem with going wherever this investigation takes, us DiNozzo? Because if you do…"

Tony met Gibbs' hard gaze head on, just to let Gibbs know he was up to any challenge. "No problem, Boss. It's just that since I got back from the _Seahawk_ my equilibrium has been off. I think I still have seawater sloshing around in my inner ear." Tony made a big deal out of sticking a finger in his ear and wiggling it around. Gibbs didn't look impressed but at least he got Ducky to chuckle.

As soon as they got up to the bullpen Gibbs yanked his desk drawer open and tossed a small box at Tony. Tony scrambled to catch it and asked, looking at the packaging, "What's this?"

"Dramamine," Gibbs said curtly.

«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»

When Tony entered Autopsy, he found Dr. Mallard about to slide Lieutenant Hannaford's body into one of the cold units at the far side of the room.

"Hey, Ducky. I need you to sign off on this report," Tony said, looking over Lieutenant Hannaford's body with an investigator's eye. Even in death, the man was handsome. His hair was graying at the temples but he was physically fit. In life, Hannaford had been tanned and there were creases around his eyes suggesting a lot of time spent outdoors, making Tony wonder what the man had looked like when he laughed. He hated suicides; they made no sense, although the victim might say otherwise. Tony wondered, had something significant occurred to make the lieutenant take his life or had it been a slow sapping of energy and spirit over months, or even years?

Tony glanced up to find Ducky watching him so he explained, "I was just wondering what was so bad in his life that he felt he had to end it. By all accounts he enjoyed his job only…only Hannaford has been at the same rank for nine years and he was going to be fifty-five in a few weeks. Retirement was looming."

"Some men's jobs are their lives, and they can't see past it." Ducky suggested. "I enjoy my job immensely, but at the end of every day I can walk away from it and go home. There is so much to enjoy outside of this place – theater and music, fine dining and the company of friends." He pulled the sheet over the lieutenant's face and slowly slid the body into the wall. He closed the door gently but, in the large tiled room, it gave a resounding clang.

It sounded so final and so cold that Tony shivered a little. He said quietly, almost to himself, "When I was on the ship, even though there were thousands of people around me, and even though I got to go ashore, I felt…disconnected, isolated. I didn't belong there, and it was like I was becoming…someone else."

Ducky stripped off his gloves and dropped them in the waste bin then walked over to the sink to wash his hands and Tony followed him. The ME asked, "Are you still a man without a country, so to speak, Anthony? Have you settled back into your own home?"

"Yeah, well, unfortunately, the couple I sublet my condo to isn't in a position to vacate." He shrugged. "We agreed on two years and I have to honor that. In the meantime…"

"Bunking with friends can be trying," Ducky said sympathetically as he signed the paperwork Tony gave him. "I have been remiss in not offering earlier, but my guest room is yours for as long as you like, although it does come with strings attached."

Ducky meant his mother, of course, and although Tony liked Mrs. Mallard a lot, he didn't think he could remain in the same house as her for more than a few hours. "I appreciate that, Ducky, but right now I'm okay where I am. The quarters are a lot less cramped than on the _Seahawk_, that's for sure," he said lightly. "Better get back upstairs before Cap'n Gibbs decides to keelhaul me."

"Ah yes, keelhauling. A punishment meted out by the Dutch Navy from the 16th century until around 1850, I believe. If the unfortunate sailor didn't drown from being dragged under the hull of the ship, he would most likely be flayed by the barnacles, or worse. Loss of limbs and decapitation were not uncommon as a result of the barbaric punishment. But about Gibbs…perhaps his mood will improve once Ziva and Timothy have returned from their respective duties in a few days."

Tony smiled in reply, but he didn't think that Gibbs' problem stemmed from Ziva and Tim's absence. It had started before they'd left and seemed to be directed solely at him. "Hey, I'll survive, Ducky. It's just like old times working with Gibbs. When I first joined NCIS, we were the only two on the team for over a year, remember? And we didn't kill each other then. I know the routine by heart: Gibbs growls and I jump. Gibbs ignores me and I jump."

The transition from being the only officer of the law aboard a huge vessel, responsible for keeping 5000 men on the straight-and-narrow, to working under Gibbs and being a team player required a little acclimation. Not that Tony was complaining, because there hadn't been a moment when he was Agent Afloat that he hadn't yearned to be back on Gibbs' team. It was just that he didn't understand why Gibbs was acting so grouchy towards him. Not hostile, exactly, but Tony kept catching Gibbs staring at him like he was pissed off about something, and whatever that something was, it appeared to have something to do with him.

The few times that Tony had said something nice, like how glad he was to be home again, or when he joked around, trying to lighten the mood a bit, his boss's expression had darkened – which was not the result that Tony had been expecting. It was unsettling, and although Tony didn't want to believe it, he was beginning to get the feeling that Gibbs might not want him back.

Ducky patted Tony's shoulder and assured him, "Jethro is not such a hard man as he seems on the outside. A tough nut to crack, as you know, but as you know, once you get him to open up a little he's perfectly accessible. Or maybe I'm thinking of a clam," he mused.

Tony looked askance at Ducky. "Nut or clam, we _are_ talking about Jethro Gibbs, right? The man who is a candidate for a place of honor up on Mount Rushmore? The guy who told me, only this morning, that if I didn't get the evidence – which was a bathroom full of glass shards – bagged in five minutes, he was going to hand me a toothbrush and put me on latrine duty?"

"Oh dear."

"Exactly. Um…you don't happen to know what's wrong with him, do you? Or maybe it's me."

"I doubt it is you, my boy, although it might be _about_ you. You see, Jethro was quite upset as a result of a conversation he had with Director Vance, and that was…let's see…yes, it was three days before you returned. Just prior to the investigation into the deaths of Lieutenant Evans and his wife. The director was quite firm that you were to remain on the _Seahawk_ until your tour was complete, and he was even talking about extending it."

"The full two years?" Damn, he had been pretty sure that Vance had been making it personal and that just confirmed it.

"Only you _did_ return, so someone must have given the orders, Anthony. I would deduce that Jethro managed to twist the appropriate arm in order to have you released from your assignment and returned to the bosom of your family."

"You been listening at keyholes, Duck?" asked Tony with mock dismay.

"Of course not. I would not stoop so low as to put my ear to the door. Besides, I have this." He held up a stethoscope for Tony to see, and smiled wickedly.

Tony laughed but after a moment sobered up. "So…we're still family?"

"Of course we are, my boy. We always were. Even close-knit families squabble and have misunderstandings," Ducky replied, as if Tony was being ridiculous for questioning it. He handed Tony the paperwork on the Kennedy case. "Now, don't mind Jethro's mood. Whatever it is, he'll figure it out on his own, as he always does, and then everything will be back to normal."

Normal, what was normal? Right now he had no idea. "Thanks, Ducky," Tony said and headed for the elevator, smiling because it looked like Gibbs had fought for him, after all. But whose arm had he twisted? Maybe now Gibbs owed someone higher up a big favor, and he was worried. Could be that was why he was being so unapproachable. Tony sighed. Even if Gibbs liked to sort things out on his own, without interference from anyone, even his friends, Tony was going to have a talk with him. He was determined to face Gibbs and ask what he'd done to bring him home, and at what cost. God, he hoped that Gibbs hadn't gotten into trouble over it.

Before the elevator doors closed, Jimmy Palmer slipped in, carrying a thick folder. Tony asked, "That for my team, or I should say, my duo?"

Palmer shook his head. "No, it's for Owen's team. Say, I have this yearning for pork chops and gravy. Green beans and mushroom gravy sound good? You eating at home tonight? Because I'm cooking."

"Depends on the boss, but I'd like a home-cooked meal. I think there's a bottle of white wine left from the other night. You want me to pick up something for dessert?"

"That'd be good. Seven o'clock okay?"

"Sure. I'll call if I can't make it."

The elevator dinged and the doors opened. Jimmy waved goodbye and shot out ahead of Tony.

With Ziva and Tim absent, Gibbs was the only agent working in the bullpen. As soon as Tony sat at his desk his phone rang. After a short conversation, he hung up and spoke to Gibbs, who hadn't even raised his eyes when Tony had returned. "Uh, Boss, that call was from the super at Lieutenant Hannaford's apartment building."

Gibbs looked up and sent Tony a 'So what's the rest of the story?' stare.

"The super, Mr. Kavechni, says that someone tried to break into Hannaford's apartment last night." Tony picked up his notepad even though he knew the facts. It saved the need to meet Gibbs' piercing blue eyes. "There has been a rash of break-ins the past couple of months. Mostly electronics, jewelry, standard breaking and entering loot. A neighbor passing by interrupted the guy jimmying our lieutenant's door but he was so scared he didn't get a good description. Young, scruffy, with blond longish hair. Said he was big, maybe 250 pounds." It didn't sound like it had anything to do with their suicidal lieutenant to Tony, but you never knew.

Gibbs glanced at his watch and said, "Go and check it out yourself. And DiNozzo, take Balboa."

«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER 3**

Although Tony had known Special Agent Dean Martin Balboa for years, he had never partnered with him in the field before. Balboa usually headed up his own team but, like Gibbs' team, they were on other assignments for a few days. Their investigative style was similar so they got along fine. Balboa was experienced – he'd been at NCIS just as long as Tony had – and he dressed well and had a good sense of humor. But what Tony liked about Balboa was that he loved it when Tony, joking around, called him Dino.

Balboa said, "My mom used to call me Dino. She had all the Dean Martin records and played them every Friday night. It was like a ritual. Drove Dad crazy. I always loved _Just in Time_."

Tony parked in front of the apartment building where Lieutenant Hannaford had lived. They went inside to find the super, taking their gear and the camera along with them. "You know the lyrics?" Tony asked.

"Oh yeah. 'Just in time, I found you just in time,'" Balboa sang as they entered the building. Back to business, he said to Tony, "Okay, so Mr. Kavechni has seen this guy whose description makes him sound like he's Chewbacca hanging around, and the Metro Police looked into the break-ins but they haven't located him yet. What does your gut tell you? Common thief? Crackhead looking to steal something to sell and keeps coming back because he knows the area? Or maybe Lieutenant Hannaford was murdered and Ducky missed the signs and this guy is breaking in to find top secret papers that were hidden there?"

Tony shook his head. "My gut says this is your normal, run-of-the-mill thief, a neighborhood kid who has nothing to do with our dead lieutenant. But then, I've been policing five thousand Navy men for the past few months, so I wouldn't be surprised if my normal-people radar is sorta skewed."

"One thing this job has taught me is that there _are_ no normal people," Balboa said with a laugh.

«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»

They talked to Mr. Kavechni down in his basement apartment. He had little to add to what he'd told Tony on the phone, so the two agents took the elevator up to the third floor to have a look at Lieutenant Hannaford's apartment.

The lieutenant rarely stayed in his DC apartment and his ship hadn't been in dock for three months, so it was unlikely that they'd find anything there to explain his death. There was always the chance that there had been foul play, but Ducky had said that Hannaford had committed suicide, and Ducky had never been wrong, at least to Tony's knowledge. Still, they had to cross the Ts and dot the Is.

Tony was listening with half an ear to Balboa talking about the Bette Davis movie he'd watched the night before, _Dark Victory_, and how she'd had a brain tumor and had worn this cute little beanie to cover where she'd been operated on. As they rounded the corner in the hallway and approached Hannaford's apartment, a man rushed towards the agents with a big cardboard box in his arms, apparently not seeing them until he'd literally bumped into Balboa. He was young and blond, and he was a big guy, and in a split second Tony knew this was the perp who'd been doing the break-ins.

Tony dropped his bag and pulled his sidearm in one smooth move. "NCIS! Federal Agents. Step back and raise your hands!" From the corner of his eye he could see Balboa doing the same thing.

Scruffy dropped the box he was carrying and it hit the ground with a crash. For a second he froze and raised his hands. Tony watched the eyes – he always watched the eyes – and he saw them widen and he was sure that the guy was going to run for it. Instead, Scruffy launched himself at Balboa, who was closest, apparently intent upon grabbing the agent's gun. No way was he going to get it, but there was a bit of a scuffle before Tony got hold of one of the man's arms, bent it behind him, and shoved him against the wall.

Balboa immediately went to snap his cuffs on Scruffy but the guy was a strong shit, and he must have been hopped up and desperate enough to attack a couple of armed Federal agents. He twisted and fought like a crazy dog, snarling and spitting, and for a moment he broke free and Tony saw the flash of a knife descending towards his partner. Where the fuck had that come from? Tony blocked it and kicked the guy's legs out from under him. Scruffy went down hard, and by the time he got his breath they'd securely cuffed him.

Tony stood up, panting, and bagged the knife. It had a four-inch blade, long enough to do some damage. "What the hell is the matter with you?" he demanded. "Don't you know what 'stop, federal agents' means?"

Scruffy twisted his head to look at Tony, his face contorted with hatred. "Fucking feds! Get your fucking hands off me! I didn't do nothing! Leave me alone!"

Balboa yanked the cuffed and struggling man to his feet and pointed out, "Don't worry, you're going be left alone, in a nice quiet cell upstate." Balboa turned to Tony and asked, "DiNozzo, do we hand him over to Metro or take him back with us?"

"Let me check if he broke into Hannaford's place first." Although there were scratch marks on Lieutenant Hannaford's door from Scruffy's break-in attempts, the door had held.

Tony pulled out the key that the super had given him but Balboa warned, "DiNozzo, let me secure this guy first."

They put in a call to Metro, and while they waited for the cops to respond, Mr. Kavechni joined them and identified the thief as the man who had been hanging around the building.

Although he had been read his rights, the thief told them his name was Phil Kramer. Balboa checked out the bag that Kramer had dropped and found it held a crowbar and other tools, as well as several small electronics and phones.

Kramer insisted they were his even after Tony picked up one of the phones, a pink one. Tony said dryly, "Wow, Kramer, I wouldn't have pegged you for the kind of guy who was into Hello Kitty."

When two police officers appeared, Tony explained the situation and gladly handed Kramer over to them. "He's all yours," Tony told the police and signed over the knife he'd taken off Kramer.

While the cops took their prisoner downstairs, the two NCIS agents unlocked Hannaford's door and entered his apartment, their gear in hand. Sparsely furnished, with hardly any personal belongings in sight, it didn't take long to check out. It was obvious that Lieutenant Hannaford had lived most of his life onboard ship, and this apartment was certainly not what Tony would call a home away from home. They took photos, collected some correspondence and a laptop whose battery had run down. Even if Kramer had broken in, there wasn't much to steal in the sparsely furnished apartment.

As they went out into the hallway, Tony wiped his forehead with his sleeve. He felt warm and a bit out of breath but he put it down to being tired. Balboa was eying him with concern. "What?" asked Tony.

"You okay? You look sort of pale."

"Yeah? I must be missing that brisk sea air. Hey, I'm fine," Tony said with his best DiNozzo smile.

They were in the elevator with the doors closing when Tony got a feeling that he hadn't locked the apartment door on his way out. "Damn," he said, hitting the stop button. "I have to go back and check I locked up."

"I'll wait."

"No, you'd better make sure those Metro cops didn't lose Kramer. And we need to get the super to sign the statement." Balboa seemed doubtful but Tony assured him, "I'll catch up in a minute, Dino." Tony could hear the elevator doors slipping closed behind him as he walked down the hallway.

He was right. The door hadn't been locked. Tony wondered where the hell his mind had been. Even at his worst, when he was beat and dragging his ass, he never made probie mistakes like that. Tony had the key in the lock when he noticed that there was blood smeared on his NCIS jacket. There were some spots of blood on his pants leg, too, and he wondered where they'd come from. "Damn, I just got these cleaned." Tony twisted to see if there was any other blood on him and it was then that he felt a sting along his ribs on the left side. He opened the jacket to discover that he had been knifed. "Shit."

«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»

It was after six by the time Tony and Balboa returned to the Navy Yard and parked the car in the lot. Tony had allowed Balboa to drive. Even though he could handle the car one-handed, it would be pretty obvious that he was favoring his left side. If Balboa knew about his injury, he'd report it, and between Gibbs' attitude of late, and Vance watching him like he expected Tony to slip up any minute, Tony did not want to offer them any reason to come down on him. "I'll talk to Gibbs and bring him up to speed," said Tony, not relishing the task.

When Balboa had been busy dealing with the Metro cops, Tony had quickly slipped into Hannaford's apartment to use the bathroom. There, he had used a hand towel to wipe off the worst of the blood, and had pulled out the first-aid kit kept in his bag. He had slapped all the gauze he had over the cut without looking at it too closely, and taped it down with oversized band-aids. The towel and his trash were now stuffed in his bag awaiting the right opportunity for him to dispose of them.

His side was hurting like a bitch and he was going to have to make a side trip to the men's room before he went to the bullpen, to check that the improvised bandage was secure. It wasn't going to be easy to hide his injury from eagle-eyed Gibbs, but Tony planned to give it his best college try. So long as he didn't bend over or twist or…well, do anything except sit, he should be okay. At this point, just standing was making him break out in a sweat but he kept telling himself he could keep it together for as long as it took.

As the two agents headed up to the squad room in the elevator, Balboa said, "Thanks, by the way."

"What for?" Tony shifted his weight and stared at the floor numbers lighting up on the panel above the door.

"Look, Tony, we both know that Kramer was aiming to carve his initials in me except you got in the way."

For a second Tony was afraid that Balboa knew he'd been cut by that scruffy shit with the big knife, but when Tony looked him in the eye, he could tell his fellow agent didn't realize that he'd been hurt. Tony managed a smile and he shrugged that it was nothing. "I sort of fell on him, got lucky. You know me, tripping over my own feet. Guess I'm still not used to dry land," he said, swaying back and forth in simulation of a rocking boat. Unfortunately the movement caused a sharp pain in his side, making Tony wince, but Balboa chose that moment to look up at the floor numbers and didn't catch it.

The elevator door opened and Tony stepped out. Balboa didn't follow him. Instead he held the door open with one hand and said, "I'm going down to the coffee shop to get some coffee before I write up my report. You want anything? Coffee? Sandwich?"

"No, I'm okay, Dino, but you can bring back a coffee for Gibbs," Tony said casually, hoping the beads of sweat on his brow weren't too obvious.

Balboa smiled. "Sure thing. Uh, I'm going to write my report at my own desk and I'll send over a copy by email, if that's okay. I don't know how you can concentrate with Gibbs glaring at you," Balboa said with an apologetic shrug.

"It's not easy but somebody has to do the job."

"Good working with you, Tony. Maybe we can catch a ball game sometime."

"Or a Bette Davis movie? Maybe _Special Agent_ with George Brent, " Tony teased.

"Sounds good." Balboa waved a hand at Tony as the elevator doors closed.

«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER 4**

As soon as he was clear of the elevator, Tony slipped down the hallway towards an out-of-the way men's room. On the way there, he raided the big first-aid kit kept in the supply closet without arousing suspicion. There weren't many people in the office and those who were there had their eyes glued to their computer screens.

Tony locked the door, glad that Ziva was out of town, otherwise she'd be breaking in to see what he was up to.

The knife wound along his ribs was sore as hell; his left arm rubbed against it no matter how hard he tried to avoid contact. Taking off the NCIS field jacket and his suit coat, too, left Tony feeling shaky. His shirt, wet with blood, was sticking to his side, so he carefully peeled it off and inspected his injury. He wasn't squeamish as a rule, not like Probie was, but it was a mess. The cut was still bleeding despite being plastered with about a dozen super-jumbo band-aids. The blood had run down his pants and had soaked through to his skin along his hip. The smell was starting to get to him and he hoped he wasn't going to puke.

All Tony wanted to do was to head home, have a stiff drink and splay out on the couch. Unfortunately, now he'd taken a good look at the laceration, he had a sinking feeling that relaxing at home – well, at Palmer's home – was not how he was going to be spending his evening. It was a long gash across his ribs under his left arm, and just twisting a little to see how much damage there was made blood gush out of the gaping edges of the wound. Tony felt light-headed just looking at it. There was no way around it, he had to seek medical help. Not yet though.

Tony made good use of several large packets of gauze and applied his own version of a pressure bandage to his injured left side, securing it to his skin with duct tape he'd borrowed from a handy janitorial cart.

The NCIS jacket Tony was wearing had a long slice through the cloth, and was beyond help. So was his designer suit jacket and although it hurt him to do so, Tony removed his wallet and keys and stuffed the jacket into a trashcan. His shirt was bloodied but if could get his hands on a clean, undamaged field jacket, he could cover it up and nobody would be any the wiser.

Tony stuck his head out the men's room door and made sure there wasn't anyone around before he slunk towards the bullpen, keeping a sharp eye out for his boss. Peering around a corner, he checked to see if Gibbs was at his desk, but there was no sign of him. Of course, not knowing where Gibbs was lurking was dangerous because the man had a habit of appearing out of thin air. Still, Tony knew he had to get back to the bullpen to face Gibbs and to give him a full report at some point. Well, the report was going to leave out the fact that he'd been injured.

Just as he'd hoped, someone had left a field jacket draped over a chair in the first cubicle he passed by. Tony snatched it up and traded it for his own. That one was relegated to another trashcan. There wasn't anything he could do about his pants, which were bloodstained all down his left thigh, but they were a dark material and the jacket was just about long enough to cover it up.

When Tony was ready to face Gibbs, or as ready as he'd ever be, he strode purposefully into the bullpen. Only Gibbs was not there. Tony had a good look around the office, expecting to see his boss coming down from MTAC, or popping up from behind one of the dividing walls. No Gibbs. Huh. "Hey Liz, do you know where Gibbs is?" Tony asked an agent working in a neighboring cubicle.

The woman's face darkened. "He's gone for the day." She didn't add 'thank goodness' but it was apparent that's what she was thinking. "He was on the phone with a lawyer, something about his ex-wife."

"Not too happy, huh?"

"Is he ever?" she asked sourly, and went back to work.

Well, sure Gibbs was happy…sometimes…like when they caught a criminal after a tough case, or when he was working on his boat, or when the Nationals won. He seemed happy enough when Tony shared a steak and a beer with him. Or, Tony amended, when he _used_ to join Gibbs for a steak at his house. That was before the team had been spilt up because Tony had allowed their director to be killed. Okay, so nobody had said as much to his face, but Tony knew that he'd failed his entire team as well as Director Shepard. It didn't matter that she'd ordered him to stop following her; it had been his job to keep her safe, his number one priority. Her safety had eclipsed her need for privacy and Tony had _known_ that, and yet when she'd told him to back off he had done exactly what she asked.

«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»

They weren't like a family any more, Abby had complained when Tony had gone down to her lab a few days earlier. "Gibbs is doing his prickly porcupine act. You know, when he's hurt and retreats behind those quills. Or maybe he's a turtle? Anyway, it's all the fault of that Senator Kiley and his wife. Gibbs believed they were friends, Tony. Friends! And they turned on him! Turned on Gibbs! I mean, who in their right mind would do that? You can fix him, Tony, like you did before, when he lost his memory. I know you can."

"I never _fixed_ him, Abby," Tony had protested. It did seem as though they had taken a big step back, with Gibbs being reticent, biting off everyone's head, acting like it was him against the world.

"You were there when he needed someone constant, someone smart and funny."

"As if he ever liked my humor," Tony had said with a snort. "He just needed someone to remind him who he was."

She'd snorted. "He likes a lot more than just your sense of humor, Tony, and if you don't know that by now, then you're not much of a detective."

Tony wasn't so sure how much Gibbs liked him any more but he hadn't said as much to Abby.

She had looked at him with worry in her eyes and said, "Gibbs understands that you were following Director Shepard's direct orders, Tony. It was her choice, taking control of when and where she died."

"Then why is he still holding it against me?" Tony had demanded.

Abby had launched herself at Tony and hugged him in her usual way, and then she'd stepped back and punched him in the arm. "Snap out of it! Gibbs is not holding anything against you," she'd declared.

"Ow! What'd you do that for? I thought girls were supposed to hit like…well, like girls. And how do you know he isn't holding it against me? If I was him, I'd hold it against me. Or hold it against him. Which is it? You know what I mean. Good use of a _Moonstruck_ line, by the way."

Abby had insisted, "Gibbs needs someone to stand up to him, Tony, and that someone is you. So stop beating yourself up about a situation that you were manipulated into. I know you, and you always try to do the right thing, and you did what you thought was best, given the circumstances. You and Ziva turned around and went to back the director up, and that's what counts."

"I think it would have counted for a lot more if we'd been there a few minutes earlier, Abby," Tony had replied dryly. He had held up a hand to stop her from saying anything else. "Anyway, I'm done beating myself up about it. I'm going to feel the weight of guilt all my life, but I'm not going to let it drag me down. Jenny always followed her own agenda without caring about the fallout. Believe me, I know."

"I know you do and I'm so sorry, Tony," Abby had said sympathetically. "But now you have to concentrate on Gibbs. You need to find out what's making him Grouch-Gibbs."

Tony had raised his eyebrows. "And then what?"

"And then you remind him who's on his side, who has always been right there for him. He needs a slap upside the head, Tony, and you're the only one that can give it to him."

Tony had immediately protested, "I am not hitting Gibbs, not even for a good cause, Abby."

"A figurative slap, dummy. A wake-up call. Go," she'd said, pushing him towards the door. "Go and wake him up."

«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»

On Tony's first night home, when he was trying to get comfortable on Jimmy Palmer's not-so-comfortable convertible couch, he thought back to the morning four months ago when he'd shipped out on the _Reagan_.

He never saw it coming, being ordered to take an Agent Afloat position immediately after Jenny's funeral. He accepted his punishment without any protest and shipped out the next day. One thing about Tony, he was adept at changing to suit the situation, which made him so good undercover, but being cut off from his friends who were his support system was harder than he had expected it to be.

There was a lot to learn aboard the ship, but at least the crash course of being the sole special agent on a huge ship took his mind off everything he'd left behind. Or at least it did when he was busy. At night though, he was flooded by guilt and plagued by second guesses. But then he thought about Gibbs' last words to him, just before he shipped out: "You'll do fine, DiNozzo." Typical curt Gibbs-speak but all the same, it had been strangely comforting.

In truth, Tony hadn't been expecting Gibbs to say anything to him, much less see him off at the pier, but Gibbs's eyes had shown compassion even though his expression had been stern. It was so odd, so not-Gibbs, especially after his anger about Jenny's death and the circumstances leading up to it, but Tony didn't have time to figure it out before he was aboard and the USS _Ronald Reagan_ was preparing to shove off. Tony fought for a position at the rail just so he could see Gibbs one last time. Gibbs stood on the pier, straight-backed with one hand raised in farewell.

It was tough the first few days on board, but then Tony told himself to stop feeling sorry for himself and got into the swing of things. He was conscientious and did his job well, but as the one-month mark approached, he'd had enough of shipboard life and really wanted out.

It never occurred to him that he'd have to do the whole two years but as time passed by he began to wonder. He had expected, he had _believed,_ that Gibbs would get him the hell off the ship after a couple of weeks, tops. Apparently not.

Tony lay in bed in Palmer's small living room, laughing humorlessly about how naive he'd been. Apparently Gibbs wasn't the only one who needed a wake-up call.

When he was transferred to the _Seahawk_, and his incarceration aboard the ship extended to two and then three months, Tony came to realize that he wasn't going to be rescued. The truth came as a bit of a shock. Either Gibbs didn't have the kind of power everyone thought he had – Tony included – or he simply didn't want Tony back. Tony was afraid that it was a bit of both.

He'd pretty much given up when, to his surprise, Gibbs appeared in Cartagena, smiling broadly at being able to surprise Tony. Next thing Tony knew, he got sprung and was flying back to DC on a commercial flight with Gibbs and Ziva in the next row of seats.

Sighing, Tony rolled onto his side and punched his pillows into a better shape. Even if the mattress of Jimmy's pullout was thin and the sheets weren't a high thread count, this was heaven compared to any shipboard bunk. Now that he was back on terra firma, Tony was determined not to do anything that would rock the boat. He'd rather transfer to NCIS-fucking-Alaska than get stuck on a ship again.

Gibbs had barely spoken to Tony since he'd been back. They never had a chance that first night, with Abby hogging the conversation and telling Tony everything that had happened during his four-month absence, which Tony already knew because he and Abby had kept up a constant stream of emails all the time he'd been away.

Tony had figured that his boss would say something, _anything,_ the next day, but although they worked together, Gibbs never opened his mouth except to demand his key and to bark orders. It didn't take a rocket scientist for Tony to see that things were no longer the same between them. Gibbs was still angry and was punishing him for getting Jenny killed. Okay, he'd accept the blame. He had already done so. Now he'd work his tail off, and follow all the rules if only it meant he could stay on Gibbs' team.

«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»

Tony sat at his desk, careful of his injured side, which was hurting more with every passing minute. First, he had to phone Gibbs to bring him up to speed on the Hannaford case. Of course, no way was he going to tell his boss about his injury. Admitting to Gibbs that he'd messed up by misjudging a suspect was not an option. Instead Tony called Gibbs and gave him a brief rundown about how Lieutenant Hannaford's apartment had been squeaky clean.

"Too clean?" asked Gibbs, his suspicion coming clearly over the phone.

"No, just didn't look lived-in. He was career Navy. Just kept the apartment for when he was ashore, I'd say. Balboa and I got a laptop and some other things for Abby to look through, but I don't think she'll find anything to suggest foul play."

Gibbs just about snarled, "You a psychic now, DiNozzo?"

"Just speaking from experience. You know, the old gut." Tony could hear the sound of tires squealing and a horn blared and receded with a wail. He asked the obvious. "You driving, Boss?"

"I'm on my way to a lawyer, dealing with some legal crap. Just write up your report, DiNozzo, and I'll look at it as soon as I'm done with this," Gibbs barked over the phone. "Unless, after four months at sea you forget what the procedure is."

Tony pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at it for a couple of seconds. With all the patience he could muster, he said, "On it, Boss. I'll make sure everything is shipshape."

Tony was about to hang up when Gibbs asked, "Is there something else I should know?"

Tony cringed and tried not to sound guilty when he asked, "Um, like what?"

"How the hell would I know?"

"No, nothing else, Boss." Luckily, Gibbs hung up before his usually sharp senses caught on that Tony wasn't telling him the complete story. Tony relaxed a bit. Now all he had to do now was type up his report and head home to lick his wounds.

«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»

At some point Gibbs would figure out that his lead agent had been hurt, but in the meantime Tony wasn't about to supply any information that he didn't have to. Being bullied into getting medical care was not at the top of the list of Tony's favorite things to do. To be fair, Gibbs used tough love to keep his agents safe and in top form. Injuries not only affected his people's performances out in the field, and could easily endanger other agents, but they reduced the high rate of solved cases. Gibbs took it very personally if a criminal escaped prosecution for any reason at all, so messing up was not an option.

It seemed to Tony that he had been on the receiving end of an awful lot of sharp weapons over the past few years. His injuries, if one tallied them up, formed quite an impressive list. Tony shrugged them off rather than dwell on them. He always bounced back and individually they seemed less significant than en masse, with a few exceptions. There was the whole Y. pestis thing, that bout of pneumonia after an unscheduled dip in the Anacostia, and a six-hour coma – the result of breaking up a fight and being thrown against a bulkhead – when he was aboard the _USS Seahawk_ which, for some reason, Gibbs had not yet found out about.

«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»

Once he'd finished his paperwork, Tony emailed copies to Gibbs and to Balboa, who Tony could see was still at his desk, talking on the phone. He printed out a hard copy for Gibbs because he didn't always read all his emails, and then, when Tony couldn't put it off any longer he finally admitted to himself that he had to get someone to tend to his wound. Apart from the mounting pain, he was feeling lightheaded and generally lousy.

Gingerly, Tony rose and made his way down to autopsy, knowing that Ducky would fix him up. Of course the good doctor's help would come with a price including a lot of stern looks and a bucket-load of advice, and a rambling tale beginning with 'when I was a lad.'

Worse of all, Ducky was going to tell Gibbs about it. Tony hoped he could coerce Ducky to hold off until Monday.

All he needed was a good night's sleep and, if he was lucky, they wouldn't get called in on a case this weekend. Tony tended to heal fast so by the time he strolled in on Monday morning, he'd be feeling a lot better and ready to face the wrath of Gibbs. Plus McGee should be back at work by then and he'd take on some of the workload. Who knows how long Ziva would be overseas this time. Anyway, this was where rule number 18 came in: It's better to seek forgiveness than ask permission.

Tony expected Ducky to be still working, but the lights were dimmed when he walked into autopsy. Apparently the ME had gone home. Palmer would have left already if he was going home to prepare dinner, as planned. Tony stopped a couple of feet inside the large, cold autopsy room, feeling somewhat abandoned. Now what? Imagine, the one time he was actually going to _ask_ for help, there was nobody home. Suddenly he felt very weary and just wanted to lay his head down for a while. The metal autopsy tables almost looked good enough to catch some Zs upon. Almost, but not quite. They were a graphic reminder as to how close he'd come to taking a permanent nap.

He leaned against one of the metal tables while he wondered if there was anyone else could he turn to. Abby would be able to stitch up a wound if she could keep her mind focused on the job but if he knew her, she would blurt out all the gory details to Gibbs the first time he looked at her.

Ziva…she would sew him up if she were there, and she would relish the opportunity to remind Tony how _she_ never would have been sliced by a drugged-up thief. Ziva would have kept it a secret if he had asked her though. Problem was, Tony would most likely have had to offer her something in return, and God knows what she'd have wanted out of him. Plus she'd have something to hold over him. Handing Ziva anything that could be used as leverage later on was a bad idea.

McGee? No, he wasn't even going to go there. He'd faint at the sight of the blood and then he'd let it slip to Abby, and she'd let the cat out of the bag without meaning to.

Tony started to mentally flip the pages in his little black book. There had to be a nurse in there somewhere. What was the name of that woman he'd dated a couple of times? She worked at some kind of clinic. Marianne. Marianne something…but why did he keep picturing fluffy white poodles when he brought up her name? Oh yeah, she worked at a veterinarian's office. Sure, she would help him out.

Tony took a deep breath and winced at the pull on his wound. Shit, now he had to gather his strength, walk all the way out to his car, and drive himself to the emergency room to get stitched up. He knew he should. He really should. It was just that he hated hospitals. The smell reminded him of something from his childhood. Something bad. He'd never been able to pinpoint exactly what caused him to break out in a cold sweat, and why a feeling of helplessness overwhelmed him the moment he set foot inside any kind of health care center. Tony hadn't tried very hard to discover the root of his discomfort because he really, _really_ didn't want to know what was lurking in the dark recesses of his memory. There was no benefit in looking too deeply at that phase of his life. It was so long ago it seemed to belong to another person.

Just as Tony was about to turn and leave, Palmer came out of the storeroom, his arms full of boxes of medical supplies. Jimmy stopped short at the sight of Tony. "I didn't know you were still here. Dr. Mallard left me to restock but I'm almost done. I'm heading home to start cooking dinner in a couple of minutes." He juggled the supplies he'd been restocking and managed to drop a few on his way over to the nearest autopsy table.

Tony instinctively bent over to pick up a box of latex gloves that had tumbled near his feet, and a sharp pain seared along his ribs. He let out a hiss between clenched teeth, swore under his breath, and groped for something – anything – to cling to. Jimmy's hand was on his elbow, guiding him towards a nearby chair, which Tony found almost as embarrassing as the faintness that made him gladly accept the support.

The young medical assistant's eyes expressed concern. "Tony? Sit right here. Take a couple of deep breaths…that's it. What's going on?"

Tony looked vaguely around the autopsy room. "Um, I just needed…I wanted Ducky to…" He inhaled a few shallow breaths and said, "Never mind. D'you know if Abby's still working?"

"She went bowling."

This was a stupid idea. He'd just deal with it himself. Plenty of tape and no sudden movements and he'd be fine. Hell, who was he kidding? He was still bleeding and the jabs of pain whenever he moved were acute enough to take his breath away.

Before Tony could rise from the chair Jimmy crouched down in front of him, his hands gripping Tony's knees. "I can see you're hurting, Tony. Let me help you," Jimmy offered.

Tony was about to deny that he needed any help, but then he came to his senses. His shirt was sticking to his ribs, damp with fresh blood; the bandage he'd applied in the men's room didn't seem to be stemming the flow as well as he'd expected. Every time he moved, his entire side felt as raw as if it were being scrubbed with heavy-grit sandpaper; if he raised his left arm even a little there was a piercing pain along his ribs that made him break out in a cold sweat. But right in front of him was Jimmy Palmer, concerned and capable, with a cabinet full of medical supplies nearby. Maybe he didn't need Marianne after all. Jimmy could do it, and he'd keep quiet about it, too.

"Okay," said Tony. He carefully lifted his left arm away from his body and indicated the area where he'd been wounded. "Need stitches," he said ruefully, trying not to pay too much attention to the horrible feeling that the edges of his wound were gaping like a slowly opening zip-lock bag.

Jimmy pulled back Tony's jacket, and the bloodstained and slashed shirt, then carefully peeled back a corner of the makeshift bandage underneath. As soon as he saw the laceration Jimmy said, in a voice that oozed the type of professional calm best saved for mental patients and idiots who were bleeding all over the autopsy floor, "Tony. Listen to me. We are going to stand up and then I will take you to the emergency room–."

Before Jimmy had a chance to finish his sentence Tony was up on his feet, almost shouting, "No!" He stumbled for the exit, wondering how the hell his strength had drained away so quickly and why the metallic surfaces of the morgue were shimmering in that weird, funhouse-mirror sort of way. "Can't…won't…no hospital."

Jimmy said quickly, "Wait! Wait…look…I shouldn't…okay, okay! I…I guess I could give you sutures. Come back and let me look at it, Tony."

Tony halted in his tracks and turned slowly. The room didn't sway quite so much if he planted his feet wide and stood perfectly still. He eyed Palmer with suspicion. "You've done this before, right?"

"Of course I've sutured patients before." Jimmy smiled, his gray eyes innocent behind his eyeglasses.

"Live patients?"

Jimmy nodded with a bright smile. "Most of them have even survived," he said in an attempt at humor.

Tony released a huff of breath and said wearily, "Look, I don't want to get you in any trouble, Jimmy."

"But you came down here to ask Dr. Mallard to treat you, didn't you?"

Tony didn't have the energy to point out that Ducky had the credentials to perform an after-hours medical procedure and that if Palmer were caught there'd be hell to pay for him practicing medicine without a license.

Jimmy's chin came up. "Oh, you don't trust me."

"C'mon, Black Lung," Tony said, using his nickname for Palmer and making him smile. "I do, I do trust you, and you know you're an important part of my team." He had been, too, ever since Gibbs had gone on hiatus a couple of years back. Jimmy had proven, time and again, that he was a good listener and he'd helped Tony out by just being there, by being a sounding board. By that point, Tony would have been willing to ask a Girl Scout to sew him up with a carpet needle. He almost smiled when he pictured a little girl being awarded a merit badge for repairing a wounded NCIS field agent.

"Tony?" Jimmy prompted.

"Yeah, I trust you, Jimmy." Tony winced in anticipation. "Is this gonna hurt?"

Jimmy pulled a face and said apologetically, "You _sure_ you don't want me to take you to the ER?"

Tony shook his head. "Just do it."

«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER 5**

Within a few minutes Tony was lying on one of the metal autopsy tables, a roll of paper towel for a pillow. His jacket had been removed and the duct-tape field bandage he'd stuck on earlier had been ripped off. Okay, so maybe Jimmy hadn't actually ripped it off, but it had sure felt like it. With no painkillers available because, after all, this _was_ Autopsy, Tony gritted his teeth, grabbed the edge of the steel table and managed not to scream when Jimmy cleaned out the open wound. By the time the assistant ME got around to sewing up the cut, Tony was beyond being embarrassed at the whimpering sounds he was making every time the needle punctured his skin.

Tony tried to keep track of how many stitches Jimmy gave him, but he lost count at twelve. As a way of keeping his mind off the procedure, he talked about movies. "Hey, Palmer. You ever see _Playing God_? 1987, David Duchovney."

"_X-Files_, right?"

"Yeah. Before that, his first role. He's a surgeon. Loses his license 'cause he's high on bennies. He ends up doing some doctoring for a slimy criminal and next thing you know he's got a steady job stitching up all these bad guys."

"Sounds familiar," Jimmy said with a laugh.

Tony flinched when the curved needle slid through his skin, and Jimmy apologized. Tony continued, his voice strained, "There's a girl."

"There's always a girl," Jimmy said knowingly.

"Well, this girl is Angelina Jolie. She's young and hot. After _Hackers_ but 'fore _Gia_."

"Gia? Wasn't that the model who was a heroin addict? I'm not into track marks on a woman's arms." Jimmy knotted a suture and cut the thread, saying reassuringly, "I'm almost done."

"Okay. Anyway, there's a scene… you'll like this…" Tony kept talking, trying to keep his mind off the piercing pain in his side that was causing him to tremble. "The doc does emergency surgery on the floor of a really skuzzy bar. He uses stuff that's lyin' 'round. Plastic bottle, tube from a siphon, 'n' he cuts a hole in the guy's chest and plugs the tube into his lung and voila!"

"Voila," said Jimmy. "Done! Just going to clean you up and bandage it. You're going to need antibiotics so you have to promise me you'll see a doctor tomorrow? A real doctor, not one who's lost his license or anything like that."

With a sigh, Tony gave in. "Okay." He'd find one of those doc-in-a-boxes and pay with cash.

Jimmy taped a large, thick dressing over his handiwork. He grinned proudly. "Not bad for my first time."

"Hey!" Aghast, Tony opened his eyes. "I thought you said you'd done this before."

"Well, not on live people, but with animals, when I was a veterinarian technician…Are you okay to drive home? I took the bus in today so I don't have a car. I'd offer to drive yours for you, but you know how I am with a stick shift. How about I just call Gibbs…" From the way Tony glared at him, Jimmy got the message right away. "Not a good idea, huh?"

All he wanted to do was lie there but that wouldn't do. Tony said wearily, "Just get me upright." Jimmy helped Tony into a sitting position and held onto him while the wounded man recovered from the pain the movement had caused. Feeling shaky and nauseous, and in far more pain than he'd expected, Tony was glad of the strong arm wrapped around his shoulders. After a couple of minutes he recovered enough to say, "I can drive myself; nothing wrong with my right arm. I just need to keep my other arm away from my side." Tony lifted his arm away from his body and inspected the bandage that was adhered to his ribs with a liberal amount of tape. He smiled his thanks, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Good work, Palmer. You earned a merit badge. Guess I know who to come to next time."

Jimmy grinned at the compliment and set about cleaning up the sponges and medical supplies he'd used. "Let me get you some scrubs to wear, Tony. And you need a sling."

Trying to avoid looking at the copious amount of blood-soaked medical waste going in the red plastic bag at the foot of the autopsy table, Tony said wearily, "Okay."

A few minutes later Tony was dressed in fresh green scrubs, a sling supporting his injured arm, sitting up on the hard metal surface of the autopsy table. It looked like Palmer was ready to wash down the table, but Tony wasn't sure he had the energy to get up and leave. With Palmer's help, he was able to get on his borrowed NCIS field jacket but he hadn't done it up yet. Everything seemed to require a great amount of effort. He slumped dejectedly, feeling drained.

Jimmy removed his gloves, tossed them away and placed a supportive hand on Tony's shoulder. He angled his head and looked into his friend's eyes. "You know, Tony," he said softly, "You really should tell Gibbs. I mean, he's going to find out anyway."

Tony looked up, surprised at Palmer's suggestion. "No! Hell no! You know what Gibbs is like. If I tell him that I got hurt and didn't notify him right away I'll never hear the end of it. He always needs to know where we are, what we're doing." Tony rolled his eyes. "I don't appreciate the way he treats me like I'm a teenager hiding porn under the mattress. Not that there's anything wrong with having a skin mag under the mattress," he said quickly. "Gibbs has this overwhelming need to prove he's the boss, and right now it's too much. I don't…I don't need that. He didn't like it when I refused to give him a key."

Jimmy raised his eyebrows. "Did you tell him…?"

"I told him to ask you, if he wanted a key so damned much. Sorry to get you involved, Jimmy. He hasn't taken it out on you, has he?"

"Well, he's been glaring at me a lot, which is unusual because he usually ignores me. Maybe that's why he's annoyed, because he doesn't like you living at my place."

"Why would he care?" Tony was so tired he could hardly think, and wanted nothing more than to be magically whisked away and placed in his bed. "Look, I haven't had much control over any aspect of my life since Vance had sent me away on my little tour afloat. I might have liked the job a bit more if it had been my choice, but I did my best and believe me, it was like a ship of fools. Everyone came with their own kind of crazy, me included. Now I'm home, finally, no thanks to Gibbs. Or if he did anything to get me home, he took his damned time about it."

Jimmy nodded and said sympathetically, "Tony, Agent Gibbs must have had his hands tied, otherwise he'd have arranged to get you back home sooner."

"All I want is for everything to be like it used to be. Is that too much to ask?"

"Sometimes it _is_ too much to ask," Palmer said regretfully.

Tony demanded, "Tell me this. Why did he have no trouble reinstating McCyberboy and Ziva? Why was I left out there all on my own? The Gibbs I know, the one I _used_ to know, _never_ would have left me on that ship! Hell, he never would have let Vance split us all up."

"I don't know, Tony, but I can't believe that Gibbs would have abandoned you. I know you don't think he'd do that either or you wouldn't be questioning it like this. Ever since you and the others were reassigned, Agent Gibbs has been difficult to deal with. More than usual. I think his hands were tied, and from what I've heard, I don't think that splitting you guys up was all Vance's idea. I mean, he does answer to a higher power."

"God?" Tony asked with a snort.

"No, SecNav."

Tony sat up straighter and looked at his friend closely. "You heard something, Jimmy?"

Jimmy shrugged. "Just whispers of things, nothing specific. Like maybe Director Vance has a lot on the line. But the thing is, now that you're back, Gibbs is being protective. Like the way he wanted your key. He watches out for you, Tony. Dr. Mallard is the same with me, except, of course, he thinks of me in a strictly paternal way. Not exactly how Gibbs thinks of you."

"Sure, he cares about me. He cares because I roll with the punches. He knows he'd have a damned hard time finding anyone to take half the crap he dishes out if I left, and he knows I'm not going anywhere…not by my own choice. Gibbs only wanted the key because he was proving a point – that my life isn't my own. I think I know that, thank you very much; I got the message loud and clear."

Tony attempted to do up his jacket with clumsy fingers but Jimmy said, "Here, let me do that," and moved Tony's hands out of the way. He spoke while he took over the task of fastening Tony's jacket over the sling. "Agent Gibbs cares about you. He really does, Tony, so don't make that face."

"Why do you keep saying he cares about me, Jimmy?"

"Because I can see that he does."

"Well he sure has a funny way of showing it," Tony groused. "Been more of a bastard the past couple of weeks than…than he was when he was after Ari. He's just not the same man, and I was only away for four months, Jimmy!" That man, the one who had grinned at him in the plaza in Cartagena, the man who, when they were in the bull pen that first night back, had clasped Tony's hand with unusual pressure, lips parted with the desire to speak before he was overwhelmed by an exuberant Abby…where was he now?

Because he was so tired his muscles trembled, Tony let Jimmy take care of him. It was a relief to be with someone with whom he didn't feel the need to pretend. Jimmy was his friend, and had been for the past couple of years, ever since Gibbs had retired to Mexico. The younger man looked up to Tony yet there was more depth to their relationship than being connected because they worked for the same agency. Palmer was somewhat naive but he'd proven himself to be a steady friend as well as a viable member of the team on more than one occasion. He was always there to lend Tony a hand or to provide a sympathetic ear, and he sometimes came up with a pretty insightful comment – if one took the time to stop and listen to what he had to say.

«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»

God, how he'd missed Gibbs during those four _long_ summer months his boss was on hiatus in Mexico. He'd stepped into the position of team leader, but he had watched the damned elevator every day for weeks on end, and yet Gibbs never came. Stupid, _stupid_ of him to be so naïve, so pitifully hopeful. Just when Tony finally got it through his thick skull that the man he'd worked with and looked up to for five years was never going to return, Gibbs walked back into their lives as if he'd never been away.

They were all one big happy family again. Except they weren't – not happy, nor a family. Not really. Something wasn't right. The pieces didn't fall neatly into place like they were supposed to. Ziva and Tim were so glad to have Gibbs back that they didn't see, or maybe they didn't _want_ to see, that their boss had changed.

Gibbs went through the motions, but every so often Tony would catch him staring at him as if he was trying to figure out if he'd missed some crucial piece of information. It was obvious that Gibbs hadn't got it all together yet and Tony wondered if he ever would. Gibbs was good at covering up though, and nobody else, except for Ducky, seemed to notice.

Then came Jenny's offer – his very own team in sunny Spain. It was the right thing at the wrong time. God, Tony had wanted it so badly his heart had pounded with excitement until the slide show playing in his mind, colorful snapshots of Andalusian cuisine, Moorish castles, searing hot sun and even hotter babes, came to a screeching halt when he thought, shit…Gibbs. No way was he going to leave Gibbs, not in his current shaky state.

Now he thought, that was a stupid move, refusing a promotion like that. Talk about killing your career just as it's revving up. He had been torn, but he'd stayed. In retrospect he never really had a choice. It was then that he finally came to grips with being hooked on Gibbs. You could call it loyalty or addiction or whatever label you found most convenient, but the bottom line was he'd never voluntarily leave Gibbs.

«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»

Tony wondered what the hell had possessed him to come down to Autopsy in the first place? Here he was, sitting in a cold, sterile morgue with Jimmy Palmer, whose job was to assist cutting up dead people, acting as his health care provider. After a few minutes Tony had enough of listening to Jimmy waxing on about how much Gibbs cared about his people.

"…and he makes sure you eat something whenever you're working late on a case. Anyone can see he's concerned about you whenever you get hurt. More than he does with anyone else, except," Jimmy said thoughtfully, "you get hurt more than everyone else put together. Gibbs gets this look that's sort of desperate…"

"He does not!"

"How would you know?"

Tony shrugged. "I know Gibbs. You're imagining things, Palmer. Can we change the subject?"

"Fine, but I'm telling you, your boss is overly protective of you, and you just don't want to see what's right on front of your eyes."

Tony muttered sourly, "Yeah, Gibbs cares about all our asses 'cause we have to perform 100-percent in the field, or else Vance'll come down on his case. Have you noticed how grouchy Gibbs has been? Like more than usual?" Tony imitated Gibbs, saying gruffly, "Just get the job done. Stop fooling around. Leave the probie alone, DiNozzo." He delivered a slap to the back of his own head to punctuate the remark. "Course it could have something to do with his old war buddy, Senator Kiley, and his pretty wife, turning out to be cold-blooded killers." Tony understood why Gibbs had been uptight during that investigation. Must have hurt like hell for the Jedi master to admit his gut was wrong with that one. "Never take anything for granted. Rule number eight."

Jimmy finished doing up the last closure on Tony's jacket and scoffed, "You don't exactly follow all of Gibbs' rules, Tony. Personally, I'm scared of him and of the director, especially ever since they came down here and started giving me the third degree about Michelle."

Tony looked at him curiously. "I thought you stopped bonking Lee months ago."

"I did. She was using me," Palmer admitted. "Did you hear about Agent Langer? God, it was awful, him being killed, finding out he was a mole. Michelle was very upset; she'd never shot anyone before. I tried to be there for her but she's barely given me the time of day. I think she's avoiding me. It doesn't matter; I've given up on women altogether."

"Yeah, now you know she's capable of using deadly force, it can't be comfortable to go to bed with her," Tony said, only half kidding. "Anyway, Gibbs has broken half his own rules. And if I check out a girls walking by or tease my teammates, those are necessary distractions, even if they annoy Gibbs." Tony smiled smugly. "Besides, some of my best intel comes straight from the mouths of hot babes, and inventing new ways to annoy Timmy and Ziva keeps them on their toes."

That his antics irritated Gibbs was a bonus. Tony always felt a spike of satisfaction when he was able to push Gibbs' buttons, as if being able to get through to him was a game. Of course sometimes he went too far and then there were consequences. Still, that was a risk he was willing to take in order to get Gibbs' attention.

"Well, yes, you challenge him and he seems to like it. Although that's not why he keeps such a close eye on you." Jimmy smiled to himself.

"What d'ya mean?"

Jimmy looked into Tony's eyes and said, "You _know_…"

"I know what?"

"You know…about Gibbs. Oh…Oh, you _don't_ know." Jimmy's smile faded.

Tony raised his eyebrows and gave a small shake of his head.

Jimmy answered Tony's silent question. "Gibbs watches you because he _cares_ about you. It's obvious you're special to him." He raised his eyebrows meaningfully.

Tony frowned at Jimmy's implication. "I think we've already been over this."

Jimmy colored and blinked a few times. "It's because he…" He made a vague motion with his hand but Tony shook his head in response. Rolling his eyes, Jimmy said, "Because he cares about _you_."

"Well yeah, he's my boss," Tony replied, wondering where the conversation was going. "He feels responsible for his agents. Except he's been sort of growly since I got back."

Jimmy gave a laugh that sounded more like a snort. It clearly indicated he thought that Tony was being silly. "Yeah, right." But after Tony's expression of puzzlement began to turn into one of annoyance, Jimmy's eyebrows went up. "Oh gosh, I thought you knew, Tony. I mean…I thought you two were…Oh my."

"You thought we were _what_?" Tony asked with impatience brought on by the pain and from being tired enough to consider sacking out right where he was. "Spit it out, Gremlin."

"Well, I thought, that is to say, I _assumed_…that you two were…_lovers_," Jimmy said in a low voice that echoed around the still, cool air of the autopsy room.

Tony almost fell off the metal table. "_What_?"

"What do you mean _what_? The way you two act and react to each other all the time, you both seem to anticipate what the other's going to do. Plus I've seen how he looks at you," Jimmy said knowingly. "And there is nothing paternal about it."

Tony never saw that one coming. Sure, he thought of Gibbs as more than a boss. Like he said, the man was his mentor, a father figure, and a friend even if Gibbs had been remote to the point of being unfriendly the past couple of weeks since he got back. Okay, so he cared about Gibbs, cared for him in a way that was more than…than…

_'Okay, back up DiNozzo, how much do you care about the man? You like him, right? A lot. Maybe you even love him in an undefined sort of way. It's okay to say you love him, like a father. No, that's not right - you hate your father. Okay maybe hate is too strong a word for how you feel about him. Anyway, Gibbs is more like a father to you than your old man could ever be; he's like a __**real**__ father. Yes, you love him like a father. You've already said that. No, that's not right. Doesn't add up. Jimmy said that Gibbs thinks of you in a non-paternal way, like he…'_

Tony's inner ramblings screeched to a halt. He lifted his right hand, palm out. "Wait! Wait a minute, Palmer. You're saying that Gibbs sees me as…?"

Jimmy was nodding, an amused smile on his lips. "More than a co-worker. I caught him checking out your ass once."

"No fucking way! You're crazy! You're saying that Gibbs is…? Gibbs? No way! And you think that I'm…? Hey! I don't swing that way! And neither does Gibbs." Tony head-slapped Jimmy to punctuate his comment.

"Ow! C'mon Tony, you're obviously in deep denial."

"Look, how long have you known me, Palmer? Have you ever seen me show any interest in a man? I'm a player. I love women! All those curves and breasts and soft…C'mon! You're killin' me here." Sure, Gibbs was a virile, attractive man, one who exuded strength and a nice masculine woodsy scent that made Tony picture hands caressing smooth, freshly sanded wood…Tony, struggling to catch his breath, felt a bead of sweat running down his neck. "What did you mean he _looks_ at me?" Suddenly he wasn't feeling very good. He rubbed a hand over his face. "It's really hot in here."

Jimmy laid a strong hand on Tony's upper arm. "You're looking sort of pale. How about you lie down again?"

Tony ignored the suggestion. He stared into Jimmy's gray eyes and demanded, "Exactly how does Gibbs look at me?" Tony rubbed his hand across his sweaty forehead. Damn it, he was burning up. The room was getting dark and he was having trouble breathing. "Isn't it hot in here?"

"It's the morgue, Tony. It's freezing cold," Jimmy said with an unconcerned wave of his hand. "Are you telling me that if Gibbs put the moves on you, that you would refuse him? I know you, Tony, and you might love women and all that goes with them, but if you hooked up with Gibbs, you'd never go back to women. Believe me."

Stunned, Tony gaped at Jimmy. "What? You been sniffing formaldehyde again, Gremlin? You think I would do the wild thing with…with _Gibbs_? You crazy?" The image that jumped into his brain, of himself grappling with Gibbs on the floor under his upturned boat, was both shocking and intensely hot, and had Tony gasping and clutching at his chest. "Oh shit, oh shit! I think I'm…I'm having a heart attack."

There was buzzing in his ears but shaking his head didn't help to clear it. It kept getting louder. Jimmy was saying something, his voice urgent, but Tony couldn't make it out. He felt lightheaded but he had to get up and out of there before what Jimmy had said took hold, and made sense. Before it became the truth. Before he made a fool of himself and admitted he looked at Gibbs in that way. No, it wasn't like that! No way, no fucking way! "No!" Tony shouted. He jumped up off the table, the room tilted and the floor came up to smack him in the face.

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	6. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER 6**

The voices drifted in and out, sort of echoing. He had to be in Autopsy.

"Damn, I knew there was something wrong."

"Then why didn't you act on it, Balboa?"

Shit, that sounded like Gibbs. Alarm bells went off inside Tony's head. But his body felt so leaden he couldn't move, couldn't act on his instinct to run and hide. Sleep now…hide later…

Balboa was saying tersely, "Agent DiNozzo phoned you with a sit-rep about the case, didn't he, Agent Gibbs? Maybe you should ask _him_ why he didn't tell you that he was injured in the line of duty."

There was a moment of silence and even with his eyes closed, Tony could feel the tension.

"Shouldn't talk 'n' drive," Tony mumbled.

"Damn it, DiNozzo… And you, Balboa, get the hell out of here. I'll talk to you later," Gibbs growled. "And as for you, Palmer–"

Palmer's voice kept fading in and out but Tony caught, "…he needed help and you weren't here…Tony just wanted me to…I thought…"

"You _thought_? Who gave you permission to think, Palmer?" Gibbs demanded, loud and clear.

"He refused to go to the hospital."

"He could have _died_, Palmer!"

Man, Gibbs was boiling. Tony couldn't open his eyes even if he'd wanted to; his lids were too heavy. He was sure that Gibbs' face would be turning red. Instead Tony managed to get out, "Don' yell a' the kid." There was a hand on his head, stroking his hair. "'S good." When the light tap came on the top of his head Tony smiled. "Boss?" He knew it was Gibbs' hand but he wanted a verbal confirmation.

"You must have a concussion," Gibbs growled close to his ear. "Otherwise you wouldn't be giving me that shit-eating grin when I'm so angry with you."

"Head hurts."

"That's what happens when you faint and end up on the floor, DiNozzo."

"Don' faint." It came to Tony that he was on the autopsy table once again. Good news was he was still alive. Bad news was Gibbs was gonna kill him.

"No, the floor just came up and hit you in the face," Gibbs said sarcastically.

Tony raised a hand to check out the damage and felt a lump forming on his temple. It was sticky with congealing blood along his hairline. "Ow." Someone took a firm grip on his hand and pulled it away from his face. It had to be Gibbs; the palm had calluses on it.

"Stop touching it. You're bleeding," came the order. Gibbs asked, his voice low and terse, "Who did this to you, Tony?"

Tony opened one eye a crack to get a glimpse of his boss. The look on his face was an interesting mixture of concern, which was nice but unnecessary, and anger, which wasn't at all surprising. Tony had a feeling he should be scared, but maybe it was due to loss of blood or the bang to his head yet he honestly didn't care. Gibbs was waiting for an explanation and the only way to get rid of him was to give him something, even if it wasn't the whole truth. It took a surprising amount of effort for Tony to make his mouth form actual words. What came out was a truncated explanation of the situation that only Gibbs would understand. "Asshole. Knife. Metro's got him."

Jimmy added, "And Tony fell on the floor after I…"

Ignoring the young man, Gibbs asked Tony, "Was this when Agent Balboa was with you?"

"Not his fault." From the narrowing of Gibbs' eyes Tony could tell that Balboa was going to get reamed. "He didn't know," Tony said in an attempt to prevent any blame from falling upon the other agent. The overhead light was too bright so he lowered his eyelids to block it out. Gibbs face disappeared, too, but Tony could still feel the solid body pressing against his good side. Warmth radiated from the man. For some reason Gibbs was still holding his hand and Tony tried to regain possession of it. "My hand…"

"Shut up, Tony, just for once," Gibbs said, not releasing Tony's hand from his firm grip. He muttered, "I should have known you were covering up when you called me." Gibbs gave some terse orders to Jimmy and there was the sound of the younger man's footsteps quickly receding. Gibbs didn't say anything more, though he had taken up the head stroking once again.

"Couldn't tell you, Boss," Tony mumbled. "Get sent away again…"

«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»

"DiNozzo?" Then, louder, "Tony!"

Tony blinked and opened his eyes. "Don' hafta shout." The hard, cold surface under his back was unmistakably that of the autopsy table. He remembered falling hard on the floor. Oh yeah, and waking up to Gibbs stroking his hair and being nice to him, in a Gibbs sort of way. Tony swallowed and looked around. Jimmy was there, standing to his left, Gibbs to his right. There was a blanket draped over his body now but it did little to ward off the chill. It was red and said FIRE on it.

Palmer saw Tony looking at the lettering on the blanket and asked, "Ever hear the one about the little kid who was made of fire telling his dad, who's a big flame, that he was cold, so the old man fire puts a fire blanket over him to keep him warm?" He laughed but then looked puzzled at his own joke. "Except, wouldn't that be considered murder?"

Tony started to smile but he met Gibbs' eyes. There was no mistaking the anger on Gibbs' face. It showed in his posture, rigid as if he was on the parade ground. But there was also deep concern and it warmed Tony up far better than any blanket could. Tony didn't break eye contact when he whispered, "Guess I got caught sooner 'n' I expected." He didn't say he was sorry, even if he was. He didn't like sneaking around behind Gibbs' back, but he'd had the situation under control, or so he'd thought.

Reading his mind, Gibbs asked, "You sorry for what you did or sorry for getting caught?"

Tony lay there looking up at Gibbs' face, reading emotions that he'd never seen in those blue eyes. There was anxiety and something that Tony interpreted as exasperated affection, though he could swear he'd never seen anything like that in the older man's expression before. Had he simply missed them because he'd never had his eyes open enough to actually look for them? Or was this strong feeling he was getting, all his imagination, fueled by Palmer's fantasy that Gibbs had some kind of secret homosexual desire for Tony. No, not Gibbs, that was plain crazy.

Then the image of Gibbs, naked in the Hazmat shower, soaping his genitals came to mind. Only this time Tony pictured himself right up against him, thighs and chests rubbing suggestively while he slid his fingers along the boss's slick, rock-hard erection and…stop! Gibbs is _not_. He is so _not_ gay. Not bisexual or jumping the fence, either. Shit, maybe he was hallucinating this whole thing. He'd hit his head, right? Blood loss might have a lot to do with it, too. All of a sudden Tony was deathly afraid that Gibbs could see what was going on in his sick, twisted brain.

Gibbs was frowning at him and Tony realized he'd zoned out and was breathing as if he'd run up a few flights of stairs. What was the question? Oh yeah, was he sorry for what he'd done? "What'd I do that's so bad?" he asked defiantly. "It's not like I got cut on purpose. What's the matter, afraid Vance'll take it out on you because you can't control your agents? Or maybe he's gonna send us all off on assignments that'll get us killed this time. That'll prove to you he's the top dog, won't it?"

If Gibbs had been angry before, he was now livid. Most people wouldn't have been able to tell the difference but Tony knew all the nuances of Gibbs' expressions from years of experience. "We will talk about this later," Gibbs ground out.

Tony dropped his eyes and said in a sulky voice, "I don't have anything to apologize for."

"You let me down, Tony."

The words were spoken in a surprisingly quiet voice, but they struck Tony harder than anything else Gibbs could have said. Even if he had let Gibbs down in the past, his boss had never actually said anything aloud. "I didn't…I didn't…" Tony struggled to get up, pressing his left arm tight against his side, wincing at the pain in his side and in his head. He didn't get very far.

Jimmy said sharply, "Don't, Tony!"

Both Jimmy and Gibbs urged him back down onto the hard metal table. It was Gibbs who ordered, "You stay put until we get a _real_ medical opinion. Dr. Mallard will be here in a minute." He was blatantly ignoring Jimmy who was hovering, anxious to help.

Becoming annoyed that he was being held down against his will, Tony pulled up his last reserves of strength to protest, "I don't need-."

Gibbs leaned down, so close that Tony could feel the warm brush of his cheek against his own. Gibbs' breath was warm in his ear as he spoke slowly, enunciating every word. "You do not know what you need." The hand that had captured Tony's gave it a small squeeze and a thumb rubbed across his knuckles. Not only was it out of place but also it was a surprisingly reassuring gesture that caused Tony's face to flush.

The older man pulled back a few inches, still too close for comfort as far as Tony was concerned. Tony opened his mouth to retort but refrained when he saw Gibbs' expression. His boss was, indeed, disappointed, but there was something else in his blue eyes, something that Tony couldn't interpret. All he knew was that his heart was beating too fast and that, for once, he didn't know what to say. Tony closed his eyes and turned his head away, embarrassed at Gibbs being called in to deal with him, and not wanting his boss to see his reaction.

He must have drifted off because the next thing he knew Ducky was there, giving him gentle instructions and trying to remove his jacket without disturbing him too much. Tony moaned and Gibbs barked an order to cut the damn thing off, which they did.

Tony opened his eyes and groped for Jimmy's arm, saying, as if they were the only ones in the room, "You were pullin' my leg, right?" Jimmy glanced up, somewhere beyond Tony, presumably at Gibbs. Tony could sense he was standing close but he ignored his boss's presence and tugged on Jimmy's arm to get his attention.

Jimmy took a moment to focus, but he appeared to find some strength from Tony holding his arm, because he nodded. "No, I wasn't kidding. You heard me right."

"You've got it all wrong," Tony mumbled.

"It doesn't matter now, Tony. I'll be taking you home soon," Jimmy said bravely.

"Stick shift," Tony reminded him. He remembered Ducky complaining how Gerald had messed up his Morgan's gearbox when trying to escape from Ari. What was it with these ME's assistants that they didn't know how to drive a standard shift?

"You'll have to teach me," Palmer said, indicating he was game to learn on the fly.

Tony did not want his gears stripped by Jimmy's first attempt at driving standard. Not on his baby.

"Yes, well, whatever mischief you two are up to," Ducky said dryly, "save it for later." He removed the bandage from Tony's ribs that Jimmy had applied so carefully only a short time earlier. The medical tape stuck and pulled enough to cause Tony to wince. "Hey, I'm still alive here, Doc."

"I do apologize, Anthony."

"Hey, you shoulda been here when Jimmy took off the duct tape," Tony said with a pained smile.

The glare stemming from Ducky's pale blue eyes almost put Gibbs' version to shame. "I understand the need for improvisation out in the field, but using duct tape is unconscionable." Ducky worked more carefully from then on but he didn't stop until the freshly sutured wound was fully exposed. The doctor made some harrumphs and then interrogated Jimmy about the depth of the wound and how much blood loss there had been, while he took Tony's blood pressure and shone a light in his eyes.

Jimmy managed to hold his voice relatively steady while he responded, but he avoided looking anywhere near Agent Gibbs. Tony didn't blame him. Gibbs could be very scary when he put his mind to it.

Dr. Mallard said, "It appears that the medical aid you rendered was adequate, Mr. Palmer, even if your concept as to what constitutes appropriate behavior in an assistant…"

Ducky was talking while he reapplied a bandage to Tony's ribs, but Tony didn't listen. He realized that Gibbs was still holding his hand. If he concentrated on the feeling of the rough, work-worn fingers encompassing his hand in a gentle hold, he was able to remove himself from thinking about what was under that bandage and how much it hurt.

The doctor cleaned the area on Tony's temple that had struck the floor and adhered a bandage over it. "I believe he is suffering more from the blood loss than from the bump to his skull, Jethro. As far as concussions go, Anthony's appears to be mild. Of course you know all of the proper precautions to take so I won't bore you with a recitation of them. His pressure is a little low but his pulse is fine. I prescribe bed rest, drinking plenty of fluids, and no visual stimulation. I can provide you with adequate medication to see him through the night, and I will fill a prescription and bring it around tomorrow." Ducky moved Palmer aside and leaned over to speak sternly to Tony. "As for you, young man, I will be giving you a thorough check-up tomorrow morning. At that time I expect to hear your explanation as to what prompted this escapade."

Looking into the doctor's kind yet uncompromising eyes made Tony feel like a kid again. A kid who was in big trouble. Although Tony planned to stick up for himself, the words that came out of his mouth were, "Yes, Ducky."

"Let's get you up then," Ducky said. Working with Gibbs, he righted Tony into a sitting position. Two white pills were placed in his hand, a glass of water procured. Although he protested for show, Tony took the medication. His head was killing him and any relief was welcome.

Ducky took the empty glass from Tony. "I'm going to fit you with a sling, to keep that arm from rubbing against the wound, which must be very tender."

Once the sling was in place, with Tony's left arm strapped high across his chest, Gibbs arranged his own sports jacket over Tony's bare shoulders. "You'll catch a cold," Gibbs said, a little defensively, at Tony's look of surprise. "Put your arm around my shoulder," Gibbs ordered and Tony complied without thinking.

Together Gibbs and Ducky braced Tony between them, and he could feel them watching him closely when he rose to his feet. His knees were so weak that he would have fallen if Gibbs' arm hadn't been around him, and Ducky supporting him on the other side helped. The two older men took a moment to ensure that the placement of their hands wasn't hurting Tony and then Gibbs said briskly, "Let's get you to the car."

Tony turned his head and saw Jimmy nervously hovering a few paces behind them. "Jimmy, my car keys, in the jacket–." He watched Jimmy rummage in the pockets of what used to be an NCIS field jacket but was now a cut-up, bloodstained mess.

"Got 'em!" Jimmy held the keys to Tony's Mustang aloft.

Gibbs snatched the keys out of Palmer's hand as they passed him. "You won't be driving, DiNozzo."

"Palmer's driving me home, aren't you, Jimmy?" Tony sent a plea in Jimmy's direction, even going so far as to mouth the word 'please' while hoping Gibbs didn't catch him begging.

Palmer followed them across the morgue, saying bravely, "But Tony asked me to drive him."

"I am afraid not," Dr. Mallard said in a voice that allowed no leeway. "Mr. Palmer, you will remain right where you are until we have placed Anthony safely in the car. When I return I intend to have a word with you about practicing medicine without the proper credentials, and the possible connotations that your actions may have upon your career."

Jimmy paled and stayed put, mouthing, "Sorry," in Tony's direction. "Here, these are Tony's." He handed Gibbs the rest of Tony's things; gun, wallet, and cell phone.

Tony wasn't sure how it was that Ducky was able to speak in such a refined way yet still managed to sound threatening, even to those who knew him well. "I want my car keys, my gun." He smiled at his boss expectantly even though he knew he didn't have a hope in hell of getting his own way.

Gibbs responded with a deadpan look. "You won't need 'em. You're coming to my place."

Tony halted and tried to pull away from Gibbs and Dr. Mallard but all his struggle gained him was a searing pain up his left side. "But…but I don't want to go to your place."

"Keep walking, DiNozzo." Gibbs and Ducky kept heading towards the exit with a reluctant Tony between them. Gibbs glanced sideways at Tony and asked, "Something wrong with my house?"

"Uh…no. It's not that I don't like your home, Boss, 'cause I do, but I'm gonna go with Jimmy and–" Gibbs grasped Tony's wrist firmly in a warning to behave, and Tony knew it was useless to fight the inevitable. He gave a small groan and gave in.

With Gibbs on one side and Ducky on the other, the two men managed to get Tony safely installed and seat-belted in the passenger seat of Gibbs' car. Ducky waved goodbye when Gibbs accelerated past him, then went back into the building to deal with Palmer. At that moment Tony almost felt sorrier for his friend than for himself. Almost.

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	7. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER 7**

Tony had been telling Gibbs the truth – he liked his place a lot. It was a real home even if the walls were almost bare and the furniture was old, and the couch was lumpy with a spring poking through the worn fabric at the far end. Come to think of it, the character of the Craftsman-style house was a bit like that of its owner: well built, solid, and no-nonsense. Worn around the edges and slightly sad but putting up a good front just the same. He'd called it stoic once. Stoic, but it was still sad and lonely.

Tony had stayed overnight a few times in the course of the years, usually because he was too tired or too hammered to drive, plus a couple of times when he'd had a concussion and Gibbs had volunteered to watch over him. He'd always slept in the small guest bedroom upstairs.

Only once had he been able to return the favor, when Gibbs had dislocated his shoulder tackling a suspect on the run. Not that Tony had been allowed to do much of anything for Gibbs other than drive him home. Tony had fetched him a glass of water and held the pain pills the doctor had prescribed in front of Gibbs' face until he'd taken them. Even though Tony had wanted to do far more, Gibbs had ousted him a minute later, slamming the door with a jarring finality. The next day Gibbs had apologized, sort of, by asking Tony to drive him home again and saying he could order take-out that could be eaten with one hand, if he wanted to.

They'd had some good times, too. No drama, just did the ordinary kinds of things that ordinary people tended to do on their days off. The kinds of things Tony had never had growing up, the kind he'd yearned for, ever since the first time he'd seen the Cleavers on TV. They'd shared steaks cooked over the open fire in the living room, watched basketball and football playoff games sitting side-by-side on the old couch, with Tony sitting sort of close to Gibbs because the broken spring at the far end of the couch made the seat uncomfortable.

«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»

They went to a car show or two, played basketball some weekends with the guys at the Central Fire Station gym, and attended a jazz festival out in Rosslyn. Except that excursion hadn't gone down too well because a couple of college kids sat behind them, smoking dope and giggling. Tony was never sure if it was the irritating noise or the drug use that bothered Gibbs so much he dragged the two young men over to security, but that's exactly what he did.

Afterwards, Tony was pissed for missing half of Kenny Rittenhouse's set, and they had a terse sort of fight, meaning Tony mouthed off, and Gibbs glowered and used it as an excuse to leave. Tony refused to go back with him – Gibbs had driven – which started up a whole new quarrel. Tony said he was going to stay for the rest of the acts. He pointed out that he could get himself home, thank you very much. Gibbs might be stubborn but Tony could be pig-headed, too, when pushed hard enough.

At one in the morning, when Tony exited the gate along with an exuberant crowd of jazz enthusiasts, he spotted Gibbs casually leaning against his car, a Styrofoam cup in hand. Tony almost walked on by, but something pulled him right over to Gibbs and he just stood there, waiting to hear what the man had to say.

"Get in, DiNozzo," was all Gibbs said, but the way he said it, sort of soft and wry, made all the difference and Tony accepted a ride home. They never talked about that night again but every now and then, when Tony listened to late-night jazz on WPFW, he remembered how Gibbs, even when he was angry, hadn't deserted him.

Some nights Tony dropped by and watched Gibbs work on his boat, usually for his own comfort when he was too wound up to sleep or when he couldn't bear to be alone. Tony even tried his hand at sanding the wooden hull a couple of times, under supervision of course, and once he got into the rhythm and relaxed, he began to understand what Gibbs saw in it.

It seemed that Tony always ended up at Gibbs' place when he was agonizing over a case and couldn't get it out of his head. It was a retreat where he could sort things out when the world had proven to be, once again, a terrible, unfair and deadly place. There were times, too, when Tony felt like they weren't making any headway and he was ready to throw in the towel. They usually talked about sports and everyday things to get their minds off whatever was troubling them. Things tended to sort themselves out after that. Gibbs was simply there for Tony, his presence a steady, calming influence, and that meant a lot to him.

The night would usually end with Gibbs pouring Tony a drink or two, and even if Tony didn't drink enough to impair his driving, Gibbs would insist he sleep upstairs in the small bedroom at the end of the hall. The room was so small it held only a single bed and a nightstand but Tony liked it anyway.

«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»

As usual, Gibbs took over Tony's care without allowing him to have any say in the matter. Tony found his boss's overbearing ways maddening but his protests were ignored and he was too weak to walk out on his own. So he went where he was steered, from Autopsy to the car, from the car into Gibbs' house, and then, slowly and carefully, up the stairs to a bedroom.

Whatever medication Ducky had given him had taken full effect by then, and Tony felt like he was walking on a rubbery surface. He wasn't even sure how he'd climbed the stairs but he had a vague, dreamlike impression of a strong arm wrapped around his waist, and a feeling he was leaning heavily against someone. Gibbs – he was leaning on Gibbs. Tony sniffed and smiled at the coffee-flavored scent that permeated the man. "Café au Gibbs," he murmured.

Gibbs seated Tony on the edge of a big bed, and ensured he was steady before he removed his jacket for him and tossed it on a chair.

Tony sat where he was put, bare-chested, dressed only in a big bandage taped to his ribs and the scrub pants Jimmy had put on him. The strap of the sling dragged at the back of Tony's neck but when he tugged at it Gibbs slapped his hand away. Tony blinked heavily and took in his surroundings. There was a big brass bed and a white-painted bureau with old-fashioned glass knobs. "Where 'm I?"

"My house," Gibbs said. He took a moment to lay his hands on Tony's shoulders while he examined his eyes.

With a laugh, Tony said, "No waaay. You're tryin' to trick me."

Gibbs leaned over, his face only inches from Tony's, and looked into his eyes. "You okay there, DiNozzo?"

"Peachy. Jus' peachy. How 'bou' you?" Weird, his mouth wasn't working right. What's more, his head felt heavy and the room swam when he looked around at its pale floral wallpaper. "My head feels funny. Hey, those are really big flowers. Whose room 's this?" Tony made a wild gesture with his free hand and struck Gibbs on the shoulder. He made up for it by patting Gibbs on the chest. "You been workin' out, Boss?" Tony continued patting Gibbs' chest until Gibbs made a throaty sound and removed his hand. Tony laughed. "Ooops. Sorry."

"Guess it's your room now, Tony," Gibbs said.

"My room?" Tony asked stupidly. This wasn't his room. This was someone else's. He knew that he knew who it belonged to but he couldn't put his finger on it.

In contrast to this pretty bedroom, Gibbs' room across the hall was dark with handmade oak furniture. A neatly made bed that looked like it was never slept in dominated the room. He'd bet that Gibbs had built the bookcase that took up most of one wall. It was loaded with battered old paperbacks and newer hardcovers yet there wasn't a single personal photograph or keepsake on display. The blackout curtains were hung for function rather than style and the bedside table's drawer was empty. This Tony knew because he'd poked around in there once, feeling like an intruder but nonetheless driven by his insatiable curiosity. The small guest room, the one he'd slept in on previous occasions, was at the end of the hall, plain accommodations furnished with only one twin bed.

But this room, he realized, _this_ was the room across from Gibbs'. It came to him that this was really the master bedroom that had remained unused all the years he'd known his boss. The door had been locked – he'd jiggled the handle once – and Tony had known well enough not to pry any further.

"Yeah, figured it was time to air it out." Gibbs shrugged.

"You sure?"

Gibbs looked at him for a long moment and then said curtly, "I'm sure. C'mon, let's get you undressed." Tony's shoes and socks were off and he was encouraged to stand up again. Somehow Gibbs supported his lax body – Tony's knees were so rubbery he was swaying all over the place – while he undid Tony's borrowed scrub pants and slipped them down.

Tony kicked up a fuss and pushed at Gibbs, saying, "No, I can do it myself," because being stripped by Gibbs was all sorts of embarrassing.

"Stand still," Gibbs said brusquely as he removed Tony's bloodstained underwear with a couple of efficient movements. "The blood soaked through to your skin, Tony. I'm gonna clean you up and get you something to sleep in."

Tony was helped to lie down, a gentle hand easing his head onto a wonderfully soft pillow. He sighed and complained, "Ev'rythin's goin' round. What'd Ducky give me?"

"I never ask," Gibbs said with a crooked smile. "Be right back."

Tony lay there placidly. One of the windows was slightly open and the cool night air was playing across his skin and although he belatedly realized he was naked, he didn't have the strength to cover himself up. A small spark of alarm raised its head at being so weak, but it was quickly quelled when Tony remembered that Gibbs was taking care of him, so everything would be all right.

Gibbs came back with some clothing that he tossed on the end of the bed. He went into the adjoining bathroom and was the sound of running water. Soon he returned with a damp washcloth and towel and proceeded to wash off the dried blood from just below the heavy bandage adhered to his ribcage, all the way down to his thigh. Gibbs dried him off with smooth, even strokes that reminded Tony of the way Gibbs handled his boat. Like caresses, tender yet businesslike.

"Hips up," Gibbs said. He slid soft sweatpants up Tony's legs to his waist and covered him with the sheet and blanket.

"Don't like this sling," Tony complained.

"Leave it on. Better than aggravating the wound," Gibbs said with little sympathy.

Tony shifted a little, trying to get comfortable. He felt a stab of pain, bad enough to make him hiss through his teeth.

Gibbs sat on the edge of the bed facing his reluctant houseguest. "You gonna be able to sleep?"

"I guess." Tony motioned towards the sling that bound his left arm close to his chest. "I really hafta keep this on?"

"Stop whining about the damned sling, DiNozzo." Gibbs carefully wedged a pillow under Tony's back so he didn't roll over onto his injured side.

Tony noticed that Gibbs looked tired, more than just physically. The last case had taken a lot out of him, what with finding out his good friend had turned out to be a lying murderer. Senator Kiley's wife, too. It was always the wife. And now he was adding to Gibbs' problems, being a burden. "I'm sorry, Boss. Didn't mean for this to be such a big deal. Thought it'd be a coupla stitches and then…Look, don't take it out on Jimmy, okay?"

Gibbs glowered at him. "Ducky's going to handle Palmer."

That did not sound good. "No, don't let Jimmy get fired because of me. I'm not worth his job."

"Who says so?" Gibbs asked, stone-faced.

"I coerced him." Tony could tell he wasn't going to get anywhere with Gibbs so he made a mental note to throw himself on Ducky's mercy when he saw him the next day.

"I don't care if you twisted his arm, DiNozzo, he knew what he was doing and that it was wrong." Gibbs stood and rubbed his face. "It's been a long day. How about you get some sleep?"

Tony didn't want Gibbs to leave, so he asked, "D'you get your business taken care of?"

It took Gibbs a couple of seconds to follow the change of subject. He shrugged dismissively. "Yeah. Damned lawyer."

"Your ex is raking you over the coals?" Tony had just started at NCIS when the most recent Mrs. Gibbs was on her way out, fighting and scratching for all she was worth. He'd liked Stephanie, though she'd always had one hell of a temper. He wondered if her feistiness was what had attracted Gibbs to her in the first place.

Gibbs explained, "We bought a sailboat when we got back from Moscow, but when we split up we never did anything about it legally. Now she doesn't want part ownership any more. She could have damn well sold the boat to me without bringing legal counsel into the mix," he said, his voice rising. Gibbs took a calming breath and said, "Now we've got it settled. Steph gets compensation, I get the boat, and the lawyer gets a hunk of change. Everyone's happy." He didn't sound very happy.

"Is it going to become firewood or are you gonna sail her?"

Gibbs's lips quirked in a smile. "I sail her when I get a chance."

Tony watched his boss's face relax a little when he thought about sailing. Tony wondered if he went alone or took a lady friend as first mate. "I'm glad you're happy, Gibbs. Makes me happy when you're happy." It was true; Tony's mood did lighten considerably when Gibbs was feeling good. That was normal though, considering the way they worked so closely together.

Gibbs lowered his head to hide his broadening smile, but Tony saw it anyway. He liked to see Gibbs smile, maybe because it was rare to see him happy these days, and he offered his boss an understanding smile in return. He knew from experience about the pressures of being responsible for the team and Gibbs had had a lot on his mind the past couple of weeks.

When Gibbs leaned over him to straighten the covers, Tony asked, "Everything okay, Jethro? I mean, what with Senator Kiley…"

Gibbs shook his head, not wanting to talk about it.

Tony said softly, "That's okay, I get it. Private stuff."

"It's not that…I…"

"None of my business but I got sorta worried," Tony said with a yawn. "You've got nobody to watch out for you."

Apparently deciding that actions spoke louder than the words he couldn't express, Gibbs lifted his hand towards Tony's head. Tony flinched out of habit and Gibbs' hand halted in midair. When a pained look crossed the older man's features, Tony realized he'd misinterpreted his intent. Tony held his breath and waited, and sure enough Gibbs slowly reached out once again. This time he stroked the hair back from Tony's forehead, away from the gauze square that was taped on his temple. Tony rolled his head into Gibbs' palm and just for a moment he imagined that it was a caress.

Gibbs gave Tony's hair one more stroke and then pulled his hand away. He sounded hoarse when he said, "I'm not the one you should be worrying about, Tony. You feel a bit hot."

Now Tony thought about it, he felt a little warm and his head hurt, but smashing it on the floor will do that to you.

Gibbs, the mind reader, asked gently, "Head hurt?"

"Sorta. I should be better in a coupla days. Don't want to leave you without any backup." He touched his ribs where the heavy bandage covered Jimmy's (and Ducky's) handiwork. His whole side issued a dull throb that matched his heartbeat but it wasn't too bad so long as he didn't move. He didn't want to sleep in case he missed something Gibbs said but he had a feeling he wasn't going to be awake much longer. "I'm fine. I _will_ be fine."

The skepticism on Gibbs face was clear. He grunted. "Get some sleep."

"Water?"

Gibbs held a glass to Tony's lips, then ran his fingers through the younger man's hair once more, a troubled look passing across his face. "You should have known better, Tony," he said. "It could have been much worse."

Tony admitted, "He caught us by surprise. Shouldn't have happened."

Leaning close, Gibbs said in a low voice, "You will not do anything even remotely like this again. Understand?"

"Supposed to be shipshape but I keep messing up."

"Then don't mess up any more! Learn from your mistakes, for crap's sake."

Tony's voice cracked a little when he said, "I didn't mean to disappoint you. You must be used to it by now."

"Aw, Tony…" Gibbs gave a deep sigh.

Exhausted and unable to continue sparring with Gibbs any more that night, Tony closed his eyes and mumbled, "Glad t' be back."

"Glad to have you back." Gibbs stood, turned off the lamp and left a nightlight on. "I'll leave both bedroom doors open. You need anything, you call me. I'll check in on you later."

Tony hummed that he understood and fell right asleep.

«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»

"Boss?" Tony swallowed, his throat dry. There was no response from Gibbs' room across the hall. He tried again, louder. "Gibbs?" Shit, he had to take a leak and he felt so damned weak he was afraid he'd never make it to the bathroom on his own. The sheets were tangled around his legs and the stupid sling didn't help but he struggled to sit up, gritting his teeth against the pain in his side as he swung his feet around and onto the cold wood floor. Suddenly Gibbs was there at his bedside, rumpled in sweatpants and t-shirt, hair standing on end. Tony almost smiled at the sight but instead he said apologetically, "Need to go to the head."

Gibbs grunted, efficiently drew Tony to his feet and assisted him safely to the connecting bathroom. He hovered, even though by that time Tony had his sea legs once again and was able to take care of his business without falling into the toilet. Then it was back to bed. The pillows were plumped up, the sheets straightened, a glass of water and more pills provided. Tony swallowed the pills and thirstily drank the rest of the water.

Once Tony was tucked back in bed, Gibbs laid a hand on his agent's forehead.

This time Tony rolled his head on the pillow and leaned into Gibbs' touch, half-closing his eyes. "Cool," he murmured.

Frowning, Gibbs said, "You're burnin' up. I'm gonna get a thermometer."

Tony did feel sort of hot and his head was swimming but he was glad to be in a comfortable bed in Gibbs' home, with his boss taking care of him. He didn't know when he'd last felt quite so safe and it was a nice change to be able to relax.

Gibbs soon returned, a hot water bottle in hand, along with what appeared to be packages of frozen peas. He pulled a glass thermometer from behind his ear, shook it and stuck one end in Tony's mouth. Without any warning, Gibbs drew back the covers and placed the rubber bottle on Tony's groin.

It took a couple of seconds for Tony to register that the bottle was freezing. In reaction he sat up straight and spit out the thermometer, crying, "Shit! That's cold!"

He tried to get rid of the unbearably icy thing on his lap but Gibbs grabbed his hands and growled, "We need to bring your temperature down, Tony."

"It's f-freezing," Tony complained.

"Well yeah. That's kinda the point." Gibbs stuck the thermometer back under Tony's tongue once again and ordered, "And if you spit this out I'm gonna stick it in your ass and I know you won't like that." He tucked each package of frozen peas in Tony's armpits.

Tony somehow managed to speak without opening his mouth. "'M frzing Bss!"

Gibbs smiled at Tony's whine of protest and said, "I don't know who the hell bought peas but at least they're not going to go to waste." He glanced at his watch while Tony squirmed and made faces, the thermometer protruding from his mouth. Finally Gibbs pulled it out, squinted at the mercury and frowned. "A hundred and three."

"Please…"

"What?"

"The peas. Get them offa me. And that thing, too." Tony glanced down in the direction of his groin. "If my dick freezes and breaks off I am going to kill you, Gibbs!"

Gibbs laughed but said firmly, "We'll see if the peas work before I call Ducky. Does your head hurt?"

"No more than it did earlier. Not so much if I'm lyin' down," he said truthfully.

After eyeing Tony, Gibbs pulled the covers higher up Tony's bare chest and said, "Try to get some sleep."

"You staying?" Tony asked hopefully as his eyes closed.

"Nowhere else to be," was Gibbs' soft-spoken reply.

«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»


	8. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER 8**

Tony couldn't really sleep because of the cold packs, but he dozed on and off. At some point he became aware of the smell of coffee and the feeling of the back of Gibbs' hand touching him lightly, just under his jaw. Restless, Tony sighed and turned his head towards Gibbs and for a moment, Gibbs tuned his hand and cupped the side of Tony's face. Tony gazed up at him and murmured, "Peas defrosted yet?"

"Not yet. You feel a little cooler." Gibbs took Tony's temperature again. "Looks like it's down a degree. I'm gonna hold off on calling Ducky. He'll be here in another hour anyway. Leave the cold packs where they are."

Tony looked in the direction of the window and saw the sky was lightening. It had to be around five. He rolled his head on the pillow and asked, "Gibbs?

Gibbs sat down in his chair again and grunted in reply.

"Can I ask you something?" Tony hated it when anyone asked him a loaded question, knowing that whatever came next would invariably be awkward or embarrassing. Gibbs didn't twitch a muscle but Tony was sure he saw the blue eyes flicker with unease.

Gibbs raised an eyebrow. "Since when do you ask for permission?"

"Okay," Tony acknowledged. He nodded in the direction of the bedroom across the hallway. "You have a really nice bedroom of your own right there – okay, it would look like a monk's cell if it wasn't for the books – but you sleep downstairs on that lumpy sofa or under your boat. You got something against real beds?"

Gibbs looked decidedly uncomfortable and turned his head away, rubbing his unshaven jaw. He hesitated, then said, so softly Tony almost didn't catch the words, "This was our room."

Tony didn't need a translator to know that Gibbs meant his and Shannon's room. But his wife, and their daughter, had been gone for seventeen years. Tony wondered what it would be like to have a husband so devoted to you that just the thought of your life together could make him sad after all this time. Tony would never know what that would be like, either having a family or losing one, which was pretty sad all in its own way, but still, he could feel Gibbs' pain as if it were his own.

Gibbs, his voice husky with suppressed emotion, said, "I couldn't sleep in here…afterwards." He was quiet for a long moment before he looked directly into Tony's eyes. "The wives wanted a master bedroom so I converted that one, across the hall. Installed a big bathroom. That's why the guest bedroom's small. Had to encroach a bit."

Nobody had slept in this room, in _their_ bedroom, for seventeen years. Then why had Gibbs opened it up to him, of all people? Tony waited a little while before asking, "Why'd you put me in here?"

Gibbs shrugged and said quietly, "Seemed the right thing to do. Shannon wouldn't mind."

It struck Tony that was the nicest thing that Gibbs had ever said to him, and he was touched that the man would allow him access to a bedroom that none of the exes had ever been allowed into. Tony decided that it was going to bear some more thinking about but at that point the need to close his eyes was overwhelming. Tony fell asleep, a smile on his lips, with Gibbs sitting close, watching over him.

«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»

Tony awoke slowly, feeling like crap. It took him about fifteen seconds to realize that he wasn't alone, and another fifteen for it to sink in that it was Dr. Mallard sitting at his bedside and not Gibbs. He started to stretch and groaned at how stiff he was. A bit of pain reminded him of exactly why he was here, and why Ducky was looking at him like he was beyond redemption. "Hey, Ducky," he said, his voice rough with sleep.

"Hmm. So, young man, you have endured the not-so-gentle ministrations of Jethro Gibbs and have lived to tell about it."

"He was gentle," Tony responded without thinking. The cold water bottle and the defrosted bags of peas had been removed, thank God, and sun was streaming in the window. "What's the time?" He coughed and cleared his throat and then coughed again. "Ow." Damn, the coughing pulled at his sutures like crazy.

Ducky helped Tony into a sitting position and patted his back for the duration of his morning coughing routine. Finally, red-faced and exhausted, Tony indicated he was done and the doctor helped him to lie back again.

"Sorry," Tony said, trying to catch his breath.

Peering at Tony with concern, Ducky asked, "Do you always have a bout of coughing in the morning?"

"It's not usually this bad." Tony shrugged. "It goes away when I stand up. My lungs ain't what they use to be. Except they're fine, meaning I can still pass the physical, as you know because you give it to me. You and Brad, and he'd say something if he thought I had anything wrong with my lungs, right?" Tony knew he was over-explaining.

"Hmmm, I daresay you have been reclining in the same position due to your injuries, so it is not unwarranted."

"I'm fine, Ducky. Really." He'd been hacking in the morning ever since he'd had the _Y. pestis_, but the cough was almost non-existent when the weather was fine. If it was cold and damp he wasn't so good but it had never affected his job.

Ducky nodded but there was still some doubt in his eyes. "You need to make an appointment to see Dr. Pitt as soon as you are able. Meanwhile, I need to examine your body, Anthony, before I tackle an examination of your mind."

"My mind?"

"Yes, that part of you which apparently fails to function properly as soon as you suffer an injury."

Tony laughed, but the doctor did not appear to be amused.

Ducky busied himself by taking Tony's blood pressure, his temperature and other vitals. As he inflated the blood pressure cuff, the ME asked if Tony had any nausea, head pain, or any other complaints. "And I would appreciate a truthful assessment, Anthony, if you please."

"I tell you the truth, Ducky. Mostly."

Tony had a habit of avoiding giving out specifics of any discomfort he might have, but Ducky had considerable skill with wheedling the truth out of his reluctant patient. "The faster you regain your health, the sooner you'll be able to leave," the ME pointed out. Tony gave in and told Ducky how much pain he had, and where it was located, and Ducky nodded attentively. "There now, that wasn't so difficult, was it?"

Tony squirmed a bit but said, "Guess not."

Ducky removed the blood pressure cuff. "Pressure is fine, but you will stay in bed today. You still have a temperature. My biggest concern is how to write this up in a way that doesn't result in anyone's head rolling."

Tony pled, "Don't tell Vance, Ducky. Don't put any of this on my record…please?"

"And why not?" Ducky looked down at Tony with concern.

"It's just that Vance has been giving me the hairy eyeball like he's looking for any excuse to ship me out again and I…I don't think I can take that."

"He cannot expect that active agents, such as yourself and the other members of your team, never suffer any injuries, Anthony." He drew the covers down to Tony's waist. "Shift onto your side a bit so I can have a look at your wound, dear boy."

Tony did as he was told, and rolled onto his side, facing the window. He bit his bottom lip to hold back the cry of pain that wanted to escape. "I didn't want to give him any excuse to ship me out. And please don't blame Jimmy, either."

Ducky asked in a displeased tone, "Is this why you neglected to go to the emergency room? And the reason for enlisting Mr. Palmer to cover up a serious injury?"

Tony glanced over his shoulder and noticed Gibbs standing in the doorway. He had a sinking feeling that his boss had been there long enough to hear much of the conversation. Gibbs' grim expression when he stepped to Tony's bedside confirmed it.

"He will not be shipping any of my people out," Gibbs ground out.

Tony retorted, "Yeah, well, Vance is the guy holding my fate in his sweaty palms, and there isn't anything you can do about it if he wants to fucking reassign me to the South Seas! Next time you won't bother to bring me back!" He rose up on one elbow, but the change in position caused a sharp pain to cut across his side, and he sank back in a sweat.

"Jethro, can't this wait? I am not finished here and Anthony is becoming unduly upset."

Tony closed his eyes and worked at catching his breath so didn't see what his boss's reaction might be, but he heard him say, "I can wait. But we will talk about this, Tony." The last thing Tony felt like was quarreling with his boss. Last night, when he'd been so… so _nice_, Gibbs had lulled Tony into believing that things between them had changed for the better. Some hope.

Ducky removed the bandage covering Tony's side. Although he didn't look back at the ME, Tony felt him stiffen a little. Not a good sign. There was silence for a few seconds too long so Tony peered over his shoulder to see Ducky's face. He could also see Gibbs', and whereas Ducky's expression was one of professional concern, Gibbs' was more along the line of angry. Jeez, his nostrils were flaring, _so_ not a good sign.

Tony lifted his arm to have a look at the cut across his ribs and immediately wished he hadn't. "Shit." For some reason the appearance was far worse than the night before, but then he'd been a bit out of it at the time. This was pretty grisly, with bruised-looking puckered edges sewn together with black catgut – there had to be twenty stitches – and there was dried blood and something else that Tony really didn't want to know about seeping from the wound. His stomach lurched but Gibbs was around the bed and shoving a bowl under his mouth just in time. There was a hand supporting his head and another at his shoulder until he finished heaving what little he had in his stomach.

«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»

When Tony woke up it was the afternoon and Gibbs was sitting by his bedside reading the newspaper.

Gibbs looked up when he stirred. "You want some water?"

Tony nodded, his mouth too dry to speak. By the time Gibbs had helped him to the bathroom and back, and propped pillows around him and did just about everything except wipe his sweaty brow, Tony was exhausted. He didn't protest when Gibbs handed him two white pills, and soon he slept again.

The next time he awoke the bedside lamp was on and Gibbs was coming in the door bearing a mug of soup. Tony drank it and spoke only in reply to Gibbs' simple questions. Yes, he felt better. No he wasn't in pain. Okay, yes, he was in pain but it was nothing compared to before. They went through the bathroom routine again and this time Gibbs stayed to help steady Tony while he rinsed his face with a cool washcloth and brushed his teeth.

The second Tony's head hit the pillow he was out like a light.

The next morning he was feeling a lot better. Ducky came by at some ungodly hour and Tony managed to grunt 'yes' and grunt 'no' in reply to the doctor's questions. The second he left, Tony fell back asleep.

«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»

Jimmy Palmer, dressed in a tee shirt and sweat pants, arrived early in the morning to help Tony with a shower. Concerned about what kind of punishment Ducky might have meted out to Jimmy for giving him medical attention, Tony asked cautiously, "You didn't get fired did you?"

"Oh no, but I had to listen to an hour-long lecture on NCIS protocol and scrubbed out all the containers in Autopsy," Jimmy replied offhandedly.

"You mean the…the refrigerated units where you store the bodies? God, Jimmy, I'm so sorry. Damn, I should have–"

"No, it's okay, Tony. Really," Jimmy assured him. "The worst part is that he gave me homework. I have to memorize all the infectious diseases ever known to man."

"I can help you study. I think Abby has some flash cards. She collected pictures of diseases of the Middle Ages when I had the plague."

Jimmy's eyebrows went up. "Like ergotism – St. Anthony's fire?"

"Oh yeah, and the bloody flux, puerperal fever, leprosy…"

"Cool!"

Tony shuddered. "Depends on whether or not you've ever had any of them. So, we gonna do this shower thing?"

Jimmy nodded. "You up for it? Dr. Mallard said you can have a shower if I put a waterproof bandage on your wound, and if you agree to sit on a plastic chair, which I brought with me."

Hating the idea of sitting on a chair like a geriatric, but loving that he could have a real shower, Tony gave in. "Okay, I can do that." All that sleeping had done the trick, apparently, and his energy level was a lot higher. Not anywhere near normal, but at least he made it to the bathroom without falling on his face.

The chair, it turned out, was a necessity. Who would have known that it took so much effort just to let water run over your body?

Jimmy was good at remaining unobtrusive for the most part. He set Tony up and let him take care of his own business, but kept close in case he needed assistance. What could have been an embarrassing procedure turned out to be pretty amusing, with Jimmy quoting lines from _Psycho_ while Tony dried off_. _"'No! I tell you no! I won't have you bringing some young girl in for supper!'"

Tony wiggled his eyebrows and said in a high voice, "'We all go a little mad sometimes.'"

"Oh, I've got another…don't tell me…wait, wait! Okay, I've got it. How about, 'Are you sure you wouldn't like to stay a little longer? Just for _talk_?'" Jimmy cracked up at his own attempt to sound like Norman Bates.

Tony sat in the chair, now placed in the middle of the bathroom, doing sound effects while he made stabbing motions with his comb. "'Mother! Oh God, Mother! Blood, blood!'" He was laughing so hard he had to hold his ribs. "Ow, ow! Don't make me laugh! Okay, I think we can admit this is weird, acting out the shower scene when I just got stabbed."

Grinning, Jimmy picked up the wet towels. "Hey, why not? Gallows humor is a good way to release tension. Look at the way Dr. Mallard talks to the bodies on his table. He makes it seem normal and somehow okay."

"Yeah, abby-normal. Oh shoot, speaking of abby-normal, I'd better call Abby, let her know I'm not dead. Is my phone around?"

"I took the liberty of updating her on what happened to you, Tony. She wanted to rush over here but Dr. Mallard told her to hold off." Jimmy held out a pair of sleeping pants for Tony to wear. "These okay?"

Tony pulled his pants up with one hand, which wasn't easy. "Thanks for letting her know, and thanks for bringing my things over."

"Oh, I didn't bring them, Agent Gibbs did. He came to the apartment around six this morning when Ducky was over here with you. You should have seen your boss looking around, checking out my bedroom. I thought he was going to start dusting for fingerprints." Jimmy fastened the sling around Tony's arm and across his shoulder. "You want to put a shirt on over this?"

"Nah, I'll go all Tarzan, drive the girls crazy." Tony wondered what Gibbs had thought when he saw that there was only one bed in Palmer's apartment.

"There aren't any girls here, Tony," Jimmy said, rolling his eyes. "Only Gibbs."

"Oh yeah." The thought of going bare-chested in front of Gibbs shouldn't have felt like it was too personal, considering Gibbs had undressed him and taken care of him through the worst of his recovery. It did though, so Tony said, "I changed my mind. Maybe I need a shirt."

"Hang on a minute, let me check the bandage first." Jimmy slid behind Tony, steadying him with a hand on his back.

The minute Jimmy touched his ribs, Tony laughed. "Don't, I'm ticklish!"

"Where, here?" Jimmy's fingers skimmed his side.

Seeing Jimmy at such close quarters, Tony realized that the young man was pretty buff, made obvious by the tight tee shirt he was wearing instead of the sloppy, loose scrubs that were his work uniform. Catching himself admiring Jimmy's big biceps and perfect pecs, Tony's eyes opened wide. Shit, he didn't normally go around openly admiring guys, so what was going on here? Was this a reaction because Jimmy had insisted that Gibbs was interested in him? Had something opened in his mind to the possibility that he might – _might_ – be open to such a relationship? Wow, that was one crazy thought and Tony laughed at himself for even thinking it. Crazy.

They were still laughing when the bathroom door opened abruptly. Gibbs stood there, glaring at them. "You two finished fooling around in here? DiNozzo, get back in bed."

Jimmy stood stock still, a little like a deer caught in the headlights. "We're just…Tony is…we're done, Agent Gibbs."

"What the hell were you thinking, Palmer?"

Tony rose to his feet, annoyed at the way Gibbs was lighting into Jimmy. "Hey! Don't take it out on him." He stood his ground even if he had to keep one hand on the back of the chair to remain steady. As a rule it wasn't too hard, reading Gibbs' emotions, even when his expression was dark and his body language was screaming _don't even go there_. Tony could usually sense what lay beneath and he knew that Gibbs could read him, too. It was like they were on the same wavelength. Or they had been before he'd been sent off as Agent Afloat.

The problem was that now Tony wasn't sure what the hell was going on with Gibbs. That he was angry was obvious, and it was somewhat alarming to face it in the confines of a small room. Tony admitted he was somewhat at fault here because it was a given that you shouldn't be fooling around when you're stitched up and not exactly steady on your feet. But it wasn't like they had been doing anything _wrong_ and Tony didn't appreciate being told off as if he were a little kid.

Jimmy, standing behind him, placed his hand on Tony's shoulder, to steady him more than to make a point. Even so, Gibbs' expression darkened. Tony didn't miss it, or the way Gibbs glanced at Jimmy and then back, his lips compressing into a thin line.

It was fascinating, watching the effort it was taking Gibbs to contain his feelings. He was doing his damnedest to cover them up, exhibiting a skill that Tony felt was just as good – or maybe _better –_ than his own. Only…only Tony could see something, a crack in that cool façade, a flicker in those icy blue eyes that suddenly weren't quite so icy, and without any warning, the truth hit him with a ferocity that sent his mind reeling. For a moment he couldn't believe it but the longer they stood there, facing off like gunfighters in an old western, with Gibbs trying to make Tony back down by glaring at him, the more the truth felt like a reality. Gibbs was jealous!

Tony never took his eyes off Gibbs'. Gibbs didn't retreat either, and Tony almost laughed at the battle of wills, especially with him standing there half naked, still damp from the shower. Barely a minute had passed but Tony could feel his legs weakening and he damned the asshole who'd knifed him. Time to get out of the bathroom. Intending to defend his actions and to tell Gibbs off for bullying Jimmy, Tony started to speak, but without warning Gibbs turned on his heel and stormed out.

«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»


	9. Chapter 9

**CHAPTER 9**

"Wow, what was that about?" Tony asked, even though he finally understood. Trouble was, he couldn't wrap his mind around it – Gibbs was jealous of Palmer? Talk about unexpected.

Jimmy dumped the towels in the hamper and slammed the lid. "That man needs someone to knock some sense into him."

"Whoa, hang on there, Black Lung. You really don't want to take on Leroy Jethro Gibbs." Tony laughed and shook his head. "C'mon, he's all bark and no bite. At least that's what Ducky says." At Jimmy's incredulous look, Tony gave in and admitted, "Okay, he bites, but they're those little warning bites, like a terrier that growls and snaps. His teeth barely break the surface." From somewhere downstairs came the sound of a door slamming. Great, now Gibbs was seriously pissed.

"Maybe not, but that man has no right to treat you like he has been. And I'll tell you this: he does not appreciate you, Tony."

"Oh, that's just Gibbs," Tony said, trying to defuse his friend's anger. "C'mon, give me a shoulder to lean on," he urged, and together they made their way slowly to the bed.

Tony had always thought that his boss _did_ appreciate him; he just didn't know how to show it. Tony sat on the bed a bit too quickly and winced at the pain in his side. Jimmy immediately helped Tony put on a shirt and got the sling back in place. Tony lay back and found a comfortable position and then Jimmy covered him with a blanket and started puffing up his pillows. In the end Tony had to put a halt to his friend's fussing. "It's okay, Jimmy. It's okay."

"But he's always coming down on you, Tony. I don't get it. I thought he…" Jimmy sighed in frustration.

Tony raised his eyebrows, indicating he wanted to hear the rest of whatever Jimmy had to say.

Jimmy carefully chose his words. "Gibbs has always been…benevolent towards you, Tony." As soon as Tony started to protest, Jimmy hastened to add, "In a tough love sort of way, you know? Like I said, it's obvious he cares about you, and I don't mean just because you're one of his team, but now…now he's annoyed at you all the time, and for no reason at all."

"Maybe he has a good reason that we don't know about," Tony said. Jimmy was looking at him closely, waiting for him to continue, so Tony said, "I don't think he's really mad at _me_. Gibbs was close to Director Shepard at one time – really close. They worked undercover together in Europe and she still had a thing for him. It's only been a short while since she died and…maybe this is the Gibbs version of grief. You've gotta give him some slack Jimmy." After all, look at the effect his first wife and child's murders had had on him, Tony thought. He had never got over their deaths. "If he wants to take it out on me, I can handle it."

"What d'you mean handle it? Why _should_ you?"

"Because I'm partially to blame for her getting killed!" Tony ran a hand through his hair and took a calming breath. "And there've been some other things going on with Gibbs, work-related. Just…just don't be quick to judge him for being a bit cranky, okay?"

"You call that cranky? I call it a match held far too close to a fuse." Tony looked at him expectantly and eventually Jimmy said, with obvious reluctance, "Okay, but you should have seen the way he acted when he came to my apartment this morning to pick up your clothes and toiletries. That was _way_ beyond cranky."

Tony snorted. "Probably didn't like seeing my messy bed. He's a 'bounce a quarter on the mattress' kind of guy."

Jimmy waved away that notion. "No, I'd already put away the bed and tidied up."

"Wait a minute. You mean you put my clothes and stuff away, too?" Tony had made a point of keeping his clothes and personal items out of sight so he didn't make too much of an impact on Jimmy's home, but the day he was injured he had forgotten to turn the bed back into a couch.

Jimmy looked sideways at Tony. "Well, yeah. I was just neatening up my living room, Tony. Don't worry, I hung up your suit on a good hangar."

"Thanks," Tony said absently. So Jimmy had put the room to rights and Gibbs had walked in and…"Wait a minute. So what he saw was your living room with the couch and coffee table in place? And only one bedroom, with only one bed? With my clothes neatly hanging right next to yours in the closet, right?"

"Well yeah." The penny dropped and Jimmy paled. "Shoot. He thinks…he thinks we're…like _together_?"

Tony couldn't help laughing at Gibbs getting the wrong idea about his relationship with Jimmy Palmer. When he'd caught his breath he pointed out, "Well, he knew from the start that I was staying with you. Remember all the noise he made about the key?"

"Which he never asked me for," Jimmy pointed out.

"Still, no reason for him to get all bent out of shape. It's not like we're team members or anything. No rule against us fraternizing," Tony teased. "After all, it's not like Gibbs is going to gossip about us over the water cooler."

Jimmy looked worried. "Maybe not, but he didn't like me before, so how's he going to treat me now?"

"Oh, don't worry. I'll set Gibbs straight," Tony assured his friend. "On the other hand, you might want to make sure your rabies shots are up to date."

Jimmy rolled his eyes. "Gee thanks, Tony. This doesn't change the fact that that man cares about you and I think ever since you came back he's had a hard time facing that."

"Facing what? C'mon!"

"You don't believe me? I think you're scared to admit that you like him as much as he likes you. The two of you have been skirting around each other for years and it's just getting more intense all the time. It had to come to a head some day and, mark my words, that day is now," Jimmy said with conviction. "Look, Tony, I have to get going to work. Do you want me to get you something to eat before I go?"

"You don't have to. I can rustle up something later on," Tony said, stretching out on the bed, his mind of Gibbs.

Jimmy replied, "I'm going to bring you breakfast. If you bust those stitches, you'll have Dr. Mallard on your case. Agent Gibbs, too."

Once Jimmy left, Tony closed his eyes and sighed. He was tired from showering, and the area around his wound was sore, but it felt great to be clean. Between the repercussions from the blood loss and getting hit on the head Tony was feeling a bit weak and was concerned that he wasn't going to get back in the field anytime soon. Maybe he'd be able to stay here, at Gibbs', the whole time he was recuperating. He smiled because Gibbs was letting him sleep in the master bedroom and that meant that he thought that Tony was special. Sometimes Gibbs could surprise him by doing something really nice, like the way he'd been taking care of him because he'd been injured. Maybe Gibbs wasn't holding Jenny's death against him after all.

Still, it didn't mean that he wasn't annoyed at the man for being such a bastard at work. It was high time they had a talk because Tony needed to find out what had made Gibbs so mad at him since he'd come back. If this was due to Gibbs not wanting Tony back on his team, then Tony wanted to know, sooner rather than later.

Yet ever since he'd been injured, Gibbs had been nothing but nice to him. And this wasn't the usual "Here's a cup of coffee, DiNozzo, got that hazelnut crap in it," kind of nice. This was a lot more…Tony grasped for the right word…tender, maybe. Wow, Leroy Jethro Gibbs – tender? Gibbs had certainly been showing signs that he cared about him by the way he'd been treating him since he'd been injured.

Of course Tony had always known that Gibbs liked him, and Gibbs had thought enough of him to keep him on his team, but now their relationship appeared to have moved to a whole new level. And what's more, Gibbs seemed to be jealous, which indicated he was being territorial, possessive even. This might even be another indicator that he did, indeed, care for Tony. The whole thing was really hard for Tony to wrap his mind around.

Only a couple of minutes had passed since Jimmy had gone down to the kitchen. There was the faint sound of dishes clattering, water running, and then voices. Tony had assumed that when Gibbs had stormed out, he'd gone to work, so it took him a moment to realize that the voices he was hearing, which were getting louder by the minute, were Jimmy's and Gibbs'. They were quarreling and, from the sound of things, were not about to solve their differences anytime soon. Tony opened his eyes and swore, "Oh shit." He struggled out of bed and made his way along the hallway and down the stairs. He was panting by the time he got to the bottom. Listing a bit to the side, Tony kept a steadying hand on the wall as he headed as fast as he could to the kitchen.

When he got there, Tony stood in the doorway, his mouth hanging open, fascinated in a major vehicle pile-up kind of way. Gibbs was there all right, his face red with anger, and he was standing toe-to-toe with Jimmy Palmer. Jimmy was standing straight as an arrow, not cowed at all. But then, he was as tall as Gibbs, a lot younger, and his muscular body bore testament to the fact that he worked out a lot. Like a lot.

"…and if you don't get your head out of your ass, Gibbs, and tell Tony how much you care about him, then you don't deserve him," Jimmy said loudly. The only thing giving away his trepidation was a slight tremble in his clenched hands.

Gibbs, his chest thrust out, demanded, "And who the hell are you to tell me how I should deal with Tony? This is none of your damned business!"

Not backing off, Jimmy retorted, "I'm Tony's friend, that's who I am. I'm the guy he asked for help when he was left on his own on that ship, Gibbs, and I'm the guy he moved in with when he got back! Where were you in all of this?"

"I was trying to get him off the ship and–"

"_Do_, don't try!"

"What?"

"You didn't _do_ enough, or fast enough, and now that he's back you're treating him like crap. You know that Tony, of all people, did not deserve to be sent away just so Director Vance could prove to you how powerful he was. You realize that if you hadn't been such a threat to Vance, none of this would have happened?"

"That's not true!" Gibbs shouted. "You don't know crap."

"No? Well I know that Tony's a good man, and for some unknown reason he gives a shit about you! You've done nothing but push him away and this time you've gone too far."

"You don't know–"

Jimmy spoke right over Gibbs, steamrolling him like a pro. "I know that Tony might be upstairs right now, but that's because you strong-armed him into your home. I know that the minute he's able walk out of here, he's coming back home with me, and you know why? Because he knows he'll get treated right by me."

"I treat him fairly," Gibbs insisted.

Jimmy kept on talking as if Gibbs hadn't even spoken. "Tell me, why the heck would he even care about you? You've done nothing but cause him grief, Gibbs."

"Tony is not going anywhere with you, Palmer!" Gibbs said furiously.

"Why not? What have you got to offer him? Tell me that!"

"I don't want him to…I can't…It's none of your damned business," Gibbs ground out.

"You can't _what_? You can't admit how you feel about him? You can't even _think_ the words, can you, Gibbs? He's never going to stay with you, not now, and you know why? Because I'm going to take him away from you," Jimmy said, his eyes gleaming.

Gibbs exploded, one hand prodding Jimmy in the chest. "The hell you are!"

"Why would he stay here? Say it, say it aloud! Or are you too much of a coward to admit that you might have feelings for another man?" Jimmy goaded.

Gibbs grabbed Jimmy's shirtfront but Jimmy took hold of Gibbs' wrist and it looked like they were about to erupt into a fistfight any second now.

Tony finally woke up and took a couple of steps into the kitchen, calling out sharply, "Enough! Both of you, back off."

Both Gibbs and Palmer looked at him, startled, and then they parted, almost guiltily.

Jimmy was breathing heavily, his eyes wide and his hands shaking. "You shouldn't be down here, Tony."

Tony laughed, "What, when World War 3 is going on right here in Gibbs' kitchen? You think I'd miss it?"

It didn't look like Jimmy saw the humor in the situation. "If you want to leave with me now, we can do that, Tony." Gibbs made a noise of protest but Jimmy continued, "If you want, I can take you to Dr. Mallard's house. I'm sure he'd be happy to have you."

Tony realized that Jimmy was eyeing him in a funny way. It wasn't quite a wink, but one of his eyebrows did this wiggling thing that was definitely a signal, and Tony caught on – Jimmy knew that nobody in their right mind would choose to stay at Ducky's, not with Mrs. Mallard, God bless her, in residence.

With slight whine in his voice, Tony asked, "You think maybe I could go home with you, Jimmy?"

"You are not going anywhere." Gibbs took hold of Tony's good arm and swept him, gently but firmly, out of the kitchen and upstairs. As soon as Tony made a sound of protest, Gibbs slowed down, and although he kept a supportive hand wrapped around Tony's upper arm, he didn't say another word until Tony was back in bed.

"You stay in bed," Gibbs said firmly. He did a quick check under Tony's bandage and shook his head. "Good thing you didn't bust those stitches or Ducky'd have both our heads."

"All right already." Tony pulled up the covers and for the next sixty seconds watched Gibbs pace back and forth. It was interesting to see how exasperated he was but it wasn't getting them anywhere. "I'm not an invalid, you know," Tony said.

"What the hell was Palmer thinking?" Gibbs turned on Tony. "And _you_? You were told to stay in bed, but did you do what you're told? No! Do you ever?"

"Hey, that's not fair! I follow orders, most of the time. When it counts." He was going to leave it at that, but something made him blurt, "I followed the orders Jenny gave me. I left her alone even though I knew she was up to something, and look how that ended up."

Gibbs waved a hand as if to say he didn't want to hear about Jenny. "Damn it, Tony, why couldn't you tell me you were hurt? Why would you hide something so serious?"

"I was just trying to keep my nose clean, Gibbs, so Vance Almighty didn't see fit to ship me out."

"I wouldn't let that happen, Tony!"

"Like you were able to prevent it the first time around?" Tony asked bitterly. "I don't think so. You can't promise that, to keep me safe. I know you think you can, but…look, I'm not in the mood to listen to this bullshit, Gibbs. I'm tired and I need to crash for a while. I'll get out of your hair as soon as I can," Tony said with a finality that couldn't be ignored. He crossed his good arm over his chest and stared out the window, blatantly refusing to look at Gibbs. He could feel Gibbs glaring at him and it took all of his will not to turn around and glare right back.

After a long moment, Gibbs left the bedroom and Tony heard him go downstairs. There were heavy footsteps and a minute later the basement door shut with a bang.

Tony sighed. Damn, that hadn't gone very well.

«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»

He was dozing when Gibbs returned bearing a tray of cereal, coffee and juice. Tony ignored him until he set the tray down and said in a quiet voice, "You're not at fault for following her orders, Tony, and if I ever tell you to do something that feels wrong, you make sure you kick up a fuss. And I _will_ listen. Deal?"

Tony nodded, wondering what had gotten into Gibbs. "Deal."

"Let's sit you up so you can eat," Gibbs said, all business. "Then we talk."

Talk? Gibbs wanted to talk?

«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»

After finishing his cereal, which was a somewhat awkward affair with Gibbs sitting there watching him, Tony handed his boss his empty bowl and said, "I'm done."

Tony wasn't looking forward to baring his soul, and he knew Gibbs well enough to know that talking about himself – his _feelings_ – was difficult, to say the least. Gibbs' features were set in a mask and although he glanced at Tony from time to time, he never actually met his eyes, as if he were preoccupied with something. This made Tony all the more curious about what was going on in his head. If Gibbs was brave enough to open up, then Tony was willing to give the same in return, but someone had to start the ball rolling and this time it was up to Gibbs.

Tony waited expectantly for something, _anything_, to come forth from Gibbs' lips. He drank the remainder of his orange juice and handed the empty glass to Gibbs. Gibbs placed it on the tray right next to the empty bowl, but still said nothing.

All of a sudden, Gibbs stood and moved away from the chair as if he couldn't stand being seated a moment longer. He paced back and forth a couple of times before returning to his seat. Gibbs ran his hands over his face and opened his mouth to say something, but he hesitated and the opportunity passed.

Watching Gibbs agonizing over what to say was entertaining in its own way, but Tony's patience was wearing thin. He took a breath and asked what he felt was the obvious question, "You mad at me?"

Gibbs raised his eyes and, for the first time since he'd brought Tony back to his room, he looked him straight in the eye. And that's when Tony saw it, deep inside – past the guilt, the worry and the exasperation – an emotion looked an awful lot like affection. Okay, maybe it was more than affection, more like…like what Palmer said. Like…Gibbs _cared_. Profoundly. It shook Tony to the core because although it was his gut reaction to joke around, this wasn't something he could make light of. He couldn't take the easy way out and pretend that he hadn't seen it, that he didn't _know_. Jesus, this…this glimpse inside Gibbs that Gibbs had allowed him to _see_, it was too much, too soon, and this could not be _happening_.

"I'm not mad at you, Tony."

But it _was_ happening. Gibbs' eyes told the truth. How was it he'd never seen it, Tony wondered? Had it always been present and Gibbs had simply been adept at hiding how he felt? Or maybe this was new for Gibbs and he'd only just realized that there was something going on between them. Was this moment for the big reveal, when Gibbs was going to admit that he cared about Tony beyond being friends and colleagues?

"Hey, take it easy," Gibbs said, as if from afar.

"Is this real?" Tony whispered, clinging to Gibbs' hand.

"You okay? You're looking a bit pale there."

Tony found himself shaking his head without meaning to. No, he wasn't okay. He was freaking out with his heart beating so hard, someone was going to have to call 911. "I don't understand."

Gibbs was frowning in concern. "What don't you understand?"

"I thought I knew you. I thought I knew _me_," Tony whispered. Tony studied Gibbs, looked really hard at him. It hit him, even as he stared into Gibbs' blue eyes, that Gibbs wasn't the only one who had been hiding his true feelings. Tony wasn't alone in feeling this strongly, this _acutely_ for another man, and instead of allowing his fear to overwhelm him – because this whole thing was Alice-in-Wonderland strange and scary – Tony's growing sense of panic receded and left in its wake a feeling of rightness. That's the only way Tony could think of this, that it was _right_, even if it wasn't completely rational. Or sane.

"I'm not mad at you," Gibbs said again, his voice low. "Far from it." He shook his head as if trying to clear it. A stream of emotions crossed his face, some subtle and some not quite so subtle.

Tony found that it was like looking in a mirror. He could see the attraction and the lust in Gibbs' eyes, the tenderness and deep affection, and the knowledge that no matter how pissed or angry or frustrated either of them might get when faced with some of the other man's less desirable qualities, they'd always be loyal to each other. And the strange thing was that even though the idea of falling for his boss, for this _man_, or for any man at all, scared Tony more than he'd like to admit, inside he was okay with it. Something inside of him shifted and settled and he felt almost calm, as if the decision had been taken away from him.

Relieved, Tony let out a laugh and he smiled, letting his true feelings show. Love on your sleeve, his mother used to call it.

Slowly, with only a hint of his own inner turmoil showing, Gibbs returned the smile, his features softening.

Tony couldn't even begin to think of how this might affect their future, how their relationship would change, what it might mean physically – and he knew that without a doubt there would be plenty of the physical side of love involved – but amazingly enough none of that mattered right now. Knowing that he'd end up waiting forever if he expected Gibbs to speak his heart, Tony asked softly, "Why didn't you ever say something?"

"Mind if I sit?" Gibbs asked, indicating the bed.

Tony nodded and Gibbs surprised him by sitting quite close, facing him. Suddenly the enormity of the situation hit him and made Tony looked away. Just for a moment, to regroup, only it was impossible to think with Gibbs sitting so close that Tony could feel the warmth of his leg pressing against his own.

"Hey," Gibbs said, briefly touching Tony's arm to get his attention. "If you don't want to take this step."

It was _his_ choice, that's what Gibbs was saying. If Tony made out that he'd spoken out of turn, or if he said that he'd changed his mind, or if he laughed it off with a, '_Sorry. Misunderstanding. C'mon, Boss, you know me and women,_' Gibbs would just walk away. Wow, that was disappointing and it hurt, a lot more than Tony expected it would. He thought, no, he'd _believed_ that Gibbs would fight for him. Except…Gibbs had left him on that ship, long after the others were back on his team. Tony said tightly, "I think it might be better if we don't."

Gibbs surprised him by slowly shaking his head. "No. No, it would not be better, Tony. It might be easier, but when did either of us take the easy way out? This isn't going to go away. Not for me it isn't." He took Tony's hand in his and held it in his warm, firm grip.

"This? What is this, exactly?" Tony thought of Jimmy challenging Gibbs earlier in the kitchen. _'Say it, say it aloud! Or are you too much of a coward to admit you might have feelings for another man?'_

Gibbs licked his lips and swallowed hard. "My team got ripped apart and I had no damned say in the matter. Vance separated my people without a single thought for what we'd built together, how well we worked as a unit. And Jenny, getting herself killed with Mike Franks only a few feet away. How the hell did that happen? Langer – I was so sure about him but he turned on us, sold out. I was all tied up, angry that I'd lost my ability to see, and it made this knot in my gut that just wouldn't go away. I couldn't see past it, Tony."

"You were frustrated, angry, not knowing which end was up?" Tony gave a small smile of regret. "Oh yeah, been there. It took me a while to crawl out of that particular hole."

"Yeah, something like that." Gibbs said understandingly. "But here's the thing. From the minute you walked up that gangplank and boarded the _Reagan_, everything felt wrong. I kept thinking of you, how I could get you back until thought I was going to go crazy. I had no idea why it was eating at me until I saw you in Cartagena." Gibbs gave a short laugh. "And then you smiled, just lit right up, and it was directed at _me_. It hit me at that moment and I _knew_. It was like it had always been there but I'd never seen it…"

Tony could see how hard Gibbs was trying so he helped him out a little. "The light bulb finally went on?" Jimmy had said that Tony was in denial but it looked like Gibbs had also been unable to acknowledge his feelings. No big surprise there. Tony asked, because he had to, "But it isn't hiding any more? I mean…you're sure?"

Gibbs grinned in a way that took Tony's breath away. "Yeah, I'm sure. Sort of sideswiped me though." He cleared his throat and asked, "And uh…you?"

"Right out of the blue. But you wouldn't have said anything if Jimmy hadn't spoken up," Tony pointed out. He didn't mention that it was Jimmy who had alerted him to the possibility that Gibbs was interested in him. Maybe later he'd tell him.

"Before he ripped me a new one? No. I had no idea," Gibbs admitted. He dropped his gaze to their hands and said, regretfully, "That's not entirely true. I _knew_ but I couldn't believe it. Or face it. Palmer was right; I'm a coward."

"You are _not_ a coward," Tony insisted, hating that Jimmy had accused Gibbs of being one and hating even more that Gibbs would think that of himself. Gibbs looked troubled, and Tony entwined their fingers, for the first time responding with a squeeze of his own. "You're _not_," he said adamantly.

"I was sure that if I said anything to you, that you'd deck me," Gibbs said with a rueful laugh. "Maybe, if you hadn't been forced off my team, we would have gone as we were, never saying anything, never admitting it. I wanted you back but once you got back to DC and we were working together again, I kept second-guessing myself. Vance was pushing me and I took it out on you, and that was wrong."

Gibbs admitting he was wrong, that was new. Tony said, choosing his words carefully, "I didn't deserve to be your punching bag." He saw the apology in Gibbs' eyes and said, "Besides, if being sent away was what it took to wake us both up, then I guess I can't be mad at Vance for handing out the punishment."

"He was punishing _me_, Tony, never you," said Gibbs sharply.

Tony looked at Gibbs skeptically. "I think a good amount of that punishment was directed at me, so let's agree we were both targets. The thing is, I was willing to take my licks, Gibbs, because the bottom line is that I was responsible for Jenny's safety. We both know that. It doesn't matter what she was up to, I failed at my job. But sticking me on that ship at a moment's notice, away from you and everyone I knew? That was about the worst kind of hell, I have to tell you."

Gibbs was gripping his hand. "It won't happen again," he promised.

"I was starting to wonder if you'd prefer it if I went and finished the rest of my two years afloat."

"Damn, no, I didn't want that, Tony. I was just…"

"Being a bastard," prompted Tony.

"I was trying to keep a distance," Gibbs said, as if the words were distasteful. "I cut off everyone so I could deal with Jenny and Langer."

"And Kiley, and the shit he pulled on you. And I heard about Langer."

Gibbs frowned at him, and then he shook his head as if trying to rid himself of a bad memory. "That was bad. I didn't trust my gut with Pat Kiley and now I wonder what I missed with Brent Langer. Look, none of this is any excuse for me to be a prick, Tony."

"No, it isn't, but I can handle it," Tony said, able to make light of it now that he knew Jethro wanted him, and what had been driving him to act in that way.

"You shouldn't _have_ to handle what I was dishing out, DiNozzo. Look, I've been trying to figure this out but…" Gibbs inhaled, frustrated. "Why's this so damned hard?"

Tony joked, "It's a guy thing. Okay, maybe it's hard to actually say the words because it's so important. And it _is_ important. You're important, Gibbs. You always have been, and now _this_ is important, whatever it is that we plan on doing here." He loved the way Gibbs looked like he couldn't quite believe what was going on between them but was loving it just the same. This was the tough guy showing his soft edge, something Tony knew was reserved only for him. He decided to press his luck and said, "Still, you didn't have to be such a bear, like about the key."

"Hey, you were living with Palmer."

"So?"

"So you didn't come to me," Gibbs countered, annoyed. "You know I have plenty of room here."

"He offered me somewhere to stay before I ever got back to the U.S."

"He has only one bed. And your clothes were in his closet," Gibbs accused.

Tony chuckled and rubbed his thumb over the back of Gibbs' hand. "Yes, Jimmy only has the one bed but both me and my back can attest to the fact that he offered me his pull-out couch. Besides, he and I have been friends since you went off to Mexico." Tony's smile broadened when Gibbs looked skeptical. "I have never thought of him like that. In fact, I've never thought of _any_ guy like that."

That seemed to please Gibbs. "Never?"

"Never. Pinky swear, as Abby would say. You know, when I think about it, it's weird because I might not have been looking, but it doesn't really throw me that it's a possibility." Tony looked at Gibbs with a speculative gaze. "And what about you?"

"What about me?"

"This is confession time," Tony pointed out. "Tony: zero, Jethro: how many men?" Tony was pretty sure there had been none but he mentally crossed his fingers anyway. He didn't want to share Gibbs with anyone, not even with the past.

It was Gibbs' turn to smile. "Do you want to hear me say 'none' because you'll be the first? Or 'a dozen' so at least one of us will know what to do?"

From the heart, Tony replied, "I don't care either way, so long as I'm the last."

The look on Gibbs' face was priceless, flush with pride and love mixed together, and when he slowly leaned in and kissed Tony for the first time, his mouth soft and loving, it made Tony realize that this was what he'd always wanted, this connection, this feeling that he was beloved. He made a gentle sound of pleasure and Jethro slanted his head, hands cradling Tony's cheeks, kissing him deeply, possessively. By the time he pulled back, Tony was tingling all over and breathing hard. Hell, they were both panting pretty heavily.

Tony laughed, a bit nervous. "Wow, can I get some more of that?"

"Yup."

Gibbs was looking at him in a way Tony had never seen before, sort of knowing and self-satisfied, and he thought, 'This is it.' Gibbs captured Tony's lips once again, and kissed him as if he couldn't get enough of him, and Tony, shivering with arousal, and thinking he'd died and gone to heaven, realized that what Gibbs was saying with every touch, every caress and sigh was _I love you_.

«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»


	10. Chapter 10

**CHAPTER 10**

Gibbs poked his head in the doorway of Tony's bedroom. "Hey, I'm going to work. Abby's coming over at later to keep you company. She was chomping at the bit," he said apologetically.

"It's okay, I was going to call her anyway. Maybe we can watch her DVD of _Cruising_ together."

Gibbs asked suspiciously, "Is that that Al Pacino movie?"

Tony smiled wickedly and waggled his eyebrows.

"Thought so. You lay in bed until Ducky says otherwise," Gibbs said sternly.

"But the only TV is downstairs," Tony protested.

"All right, so lay on the couch until Ducky says otherwise." Gibbs shook his head and headed out of the room, muttering to himself, "What did I get myself into?"

«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»

After she loaded the movie into her DVD player and hooked it up to Gibbs' small TV, Abby sat next to Tony on the couch. While they were waiting for the credits to roll by, she told him about the results of the investigation into Lieutenant Hannaford's death. The forensic evidence had indicated that his death was indeed a suicide.

Plus Balboa had tracked down one of Hannaford's acquaintances who had received an email from the lieutenant only days before. "He felt he had no future beyond the Navy. It was his whole life." Abby seemed unusually introspective when she said, "You don't think we're so wrapped up in our jobs we'll feel that retirement means the end of our lives, do you?"

"Of course not. Don't be silly. Ridiculous." Abby still looked worried so Tony gave her a hug. He assured her, "Hey, c'mon, we've got a great circle of friends, and things we love to do outside of work – just look at your nuns – and we all support each other. None of us are alone." He didn't say that he had never felt so alone as when he'd been afloat on a ship packed full of men. Just thinking about it made Tony feel empty, but if anything, the experience had taught him that he could manage fine on his own. He had the leadership skills and could run an investigation solo – he just didn't want to.

Abby stayed until Gibbs came home for dinner, at which point Tony was falling asleep on the couch. It took both of them to get him up to bed. Apparently Abby didn't think that there was anything hinky about Tony occupying the big front bedroom.

Once Abby had gone, Gibbs helped Tony settle down for the night. Instead of leaving, as Tony expected, Gibbs toed off his shoes, lay on the bed and held him in his arms. Tony was too wiped out to do much more than exchange a couple of kisses but that was okay because he now knew that, even if Jethro couldn't say the words, he loved him.

As he drifted off to sleep, Tony thought how amazing it was to be the recipient of Gibbs' love and attention. The fact that they were both men didn't seem to matter to Tony quite as much as it had just a couple of days ago.

He figured that their mutual attraction had developed from spending so much time together, both on and off the job. But why Gibbs would be interested in him – a man – at this point in his life was not so easy to understand. And, for that matter, why would _he_ be feeling the same way, all of a sudden? It was like someone had flipped a switch and suddenly he was into Gibbs, big time. Okay, he had always been into Gibbs, had admired the man to the point of idolization, but this was different – obviously.

It didn't matter what had brought them to this point. The important thing to Tony was that he was happy, in a deep-down satisfied way, just knowing that Gibbs cared deeply for him.

«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»

The next morning Tony slowly made it downstairs for breakfast with Gibbs, but after a few spoonfuls of Wheat-Os, which tasted like wet cardboard, he couldn't stomach any more. Tony pushed his cereal around while he wondered if this was the right time to ask Gibbs the question that had been burning in his mind for a while now.

Gibbs grunted, "You gonna play with it or eat it, Tony?"

Tony dropped his spoon and decided that he may as well just go for it. "Gibbs? Why did it take you so long?"

Gibbs drank a mouthful of coffee and asked, "Hmm?"

Tony asked distinctly, "Why did it take you so long to get me off that damned ship?"

Gibbs seemed to consider his words carefully before saying, "Vance put up roadblocks." Tony waited patiently, expecting more of an explanation, and sure enough Gibbs had more to say. "When I finally got a face-to-face with SecNav, he gave me the runaround. I told him that you were the best young agent I'd ever worked with, and I wanted you back. He said that was the point and–"

Tony beamed. "You told him that I'm the best?"

"You wanna hear this or not?"

"I'm the best," Tony said proudly. Gibbs rolled his eyes and started to rise from the table, so Tony said quickly, "Tell me the rest."

Gibbs settled in his chair once again. "They didn't want you around in case you figured out what was going on. Same with McGee and Ziva. When the three of you put your heads together…"

That got Tony's attention. "What was going on?"

"Three agents were brought in to fill your places," Gibbs said with a snort. "Or to be under my watchful eye, anyway. Only, they figured out they were being tested and the shit hit the fan."

"And Langer was taken out," Tony said, understanding.

"Yeah." Gibbs looked away, his eyes distant.

Tony didn't pressure him by asking about Brent Langer's death. He knew that Gibbs had liked him. Langer had been on Gibbs' team for a short while before going over to the FBI, so the suspicion that he had sold classified information when he returned to NCIS was a hit below the belt.

Ever persistent, Tony asked, "So whose arm did you twist to get me back home?"

Gibbs sighed with resignation. "It took me a while to get a meeting with the right person."

"So who was the right person?"

It took Gibbs so long to respond that Tony thought he was never going to get an answer. Eventually Gibbs rubbed his jaw and admitted, "Turned out to be the Surgeon General of the Navy."

"Vice Admiral Broadhurst?" Tony eyed Gibbs suspiciously. "What did you say to him?"

"I pulled out my wild card."

"What wild card?" Tony was afraid to know the answer.

Gibbs hummed and then said, "The plague."

"The plague. As in the pneumonic plague," ascertained Tony, not quite knowing what to make of it.

"Yeah. I sort of…led Broadhurst to believe that the altered plague you'd been infected with could be spread to others. It was in everyone's best interest for you to be stationed back at NCIS headquarters where Ducky could monitor you closely, not on a military vessel where you could infect thousands of men." Gibbs watched Tony, waiting for his reaction.

Tony stared at Gibbs, wanting, quite badly, to give him a headslap. "That's a lot of words for you, Jethro."

"It was Ducky's idea."

"Ducky told you to tell some cockamamie story to the Surgeon General?"

"Well, no. He said he hoped you were taking care of yourself onboard ship because of your lungs."

That hardly made it Ducky's idea and Tony was about to say so but then the enormity of Gibbs' words sunk in. "Wait a minute. You told the Surgeon General that I'm…I'm a _Typhoid_ _Mary_?"

"Typhoid _Tony_, only you're an asymptomatic carrier of the pneumonic plague." Gibbs smirked until Tony rose from his chair and punched him in the arm. "Hey, that hurt, DiNozzo!"

Tony sat back down and said, "Good! Wait a minute! What do you mean Ducky can monitor me?"

"The Surgeon General agreed you could come home if you had a blood test every couple of days. And every time you sneeze. Or cough."

Tony laughed in disbelief. "No way am I going to submit to blood tests! I am not going to be a pincushion! I…I bruise easily. I have an erratic work schedule. I cannot be running down to Autopsy for blood tests every day."

Gibbs didn't seem too concerned. "I'll bet Ducky can set you up to do it at home, like with one of those diabetes test kits."

Tony folded his good arm over his chest and clung to the other arm in its sling. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

Gibbs just grinned and drank some more of his coffee.

Suddenly it dawned on Tony that this tale that Gibbs had spun to get him out of being an Agent Afloat might have some truth to it. "Gibbs…" He swallowed hard. "I'm not…not really carrying the plague around am I? I might infect people?"

Gibbs assured him, "Of course not. And you don't have to be tested every other day. Just once a week."

"You scared me! I am gonna kill you, Gibbs. Couldn't you have come up with some other reason to get me off that ship?"

The smile left Gibbs' face as he looked into Tony's eyes and assured him, "I did everything I could, Tony. When Plans A, B and C failed, I had to go to Plan D. I was damned if they were going to prevent me from getting my own agent back. I would have done anything to get you back home where you belong. Anything."

Tony placed his hand over his heart and said, "Wow, that's the most romantic thing anyone ever said to me, Jethro."

Gibbs chuckled and leaned over to ruffle Tony's hair.

"Hey, not the hair," Tony protested, but he smiled just the same. Now he knew just how far Gibbs was willing to go in order to keep him where he belonged, and his heart swelled with love for the man.

«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»

"We're back on rotation tomorrow," Gibbs said a couple of days later when they were relaxing in the living room after a late dinner. He had dragged in the TV cart from the dining room and they were watching a western with Steve McQueen hell-bent on revenge.

"We are?" Tony perked up, thinking Gibbs meant that he was cleared to return to work, until he realized that what he meant was that Ziva and McGee were back.

Sure enough, Gibbs told him that McGee had completed his testimony in court, and Ziva had returned home from her overseas assignment. "I can use you back at the office. Think you're up to supporting the team from your desk?"

"When?" asked Tony eagerly. It sucked being grounded but at least he'd be doing something useful.

"Tomorrow. You get tired, get a ride home."

"Sure thing, Boss." Yeah, right, as if he'd admit to Gibbs that he was tired. Gibbs narrowed his eyes and for a moment Tony was afraid he'd spoken aloud. To cover up, he gave Gibbs a bright smile.

"And don't forget you still have to re-qualify."

Tony's stomach sank. "Except…I didn't write it in my report so technically I didn't get injured, so technically I don't have to re-qualify, right?"

Gibbs said, in his usual straightforward way, "Then get in there and fix the damned report, DiNozzo."

"But Boss, technically–"

"You need your hearing checked? Just rewrite it."

"But if I include it, the director is going to find out," Tony said.

Gibbs rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. "Do it anyway. I'll get Balboa to make any amendments necessary."

"But–"

"I told you already that nobody is going to send you away, Tony. You need to trust me on this."

Tony nodded reluctantly. "Okay. I'm trusting you, Jethro," he said, silently pleading with Gibbs not to let him down.

They sat next to each other and watched the rest of the movie, though Tony couldn't keep his mind on it while Gibbs' thigh was pressed against his own. By the time the final credit rolled by and Gibbs got up to turn the TV off, he was half dozing.

"Bed," Gibbs said, pulling a groaning Tony to his feet.

"I'm too tired. I wanna sleep here," Tony whined.

"You don't want me to join you in bed?" asked Gibbs with a smirk.

"Uh…yeah. Like duh," Tony replied with a short laugh.

"Then what're you waiting for?"

«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»

Gibbs slipped into the bed facing Tony and ran a hand down the back of Tony's head. His palm lingered at the nape of his neck, warm and intimate. "I won't have anyone intimidate my agents, or hold threats of relocation against them. You are not going anywhere, Tony."

"I don't _want_ to go anywhere."

"Good, because you're mine, you got that?"

For a long moment, Tony couldn't breathe, between the feeling of the rough fingers clasping his neck and the way Gibbs was moving in on him, his eyes glinting in the bedside light. "Jethro?" he whispered, asking for something he didn't quite understand.

"It's okay, I've got you."

Gibbs nuzzled his way up to Tony's mouth, licking and sucking as he went. He kissed Tony's lips gently at first and then with more intensity, and Tony melted into the kiss with a moan. Gibbs' kisses left him flushed and breathing unevenly, aching for more. When Tony arched his back and thrust against Gibbs he was reminded of his wound, but that didn't stop him. He asked hoarsely, "Please, please?"

"Slow down, slow down. It's all right, there's plenty of time. After you get the stitches out," Gibbs promised, kissing Tony one last time before settling behind him with his arms wrapped snugly around his waist.

Tony didn't want to wait but he knew Gibbs was right. It was a pretty good alternative, having Gibbs hug him as they both dropped off to sleep. Tony wasn't like Gibbs; he didn't find it natural and easy to sleep through the night with someone, but he was fast getting used to it. It seemed like second nature to Gibbs. Of course he'd had considerable experience with his wives. Still, it was pleasant, knowing that he'd wake up to smiles and intimate moments with Gibbs, with someone he knew well. No more waking up wondering who he'd gone home with last night, and how he was going to avoid any morning-after awkwardness.

Gibbs shifted and mumbled something, and a minute later he was snoring contentedly. Tony smiled as he closed his eyes and soon he was also asleep.

The next morning, Tony rolled over, swearing at the pain in his side. He breathed between his teeth until it subsided to a dull throb, then opened his eyes to find Gibbs propped up on one elbow. He was frowning and running his hand through his hair, which was standing up on end. "Morning," Tony said, smiling and reaching out to touch Gibbs' cockscomb.

His eyes barely open, Gibbs growled, "Hmm, fuck, coffee." He rolled out of bed with a low groan and headed for the bathroom.

"Wow, so much for a romantic morning with the one I love," Tony muttered under his breath. He did some groaning of his own as he slowly got out of bed. The shower was running and he really had to pee, so he figured _what the hell_ and joined Gibbs in the bathroom.

Gibbs hadn't stepped into the shower yet. He'd stripped off his undershirt and stood there scratching his belly while he rinsed off his toothbrush, clad only in his cotton undershorts. Tony smiled at the way Gibbs' cock was tenting his underwear, and he rubbed his own awakening erection. Before he could say anything, Gibbs slipped a hand behind his neck and pulled him in for a long, sloppy kiss. Gibbs tasted like toothpaste and his tongue was slippery and insistent, but as soon as Tony started to really get into it, forgetting that he needed to take a piss, Gibbs let him go with another half-awake grunt. His eyes were a bit more alert, and he was smirking a bit, but it was obvious that he was not a morning person.

Tony said gently, "Go take your shower. I'll get the coffee going." The look that Gibbs gave him, of gratitude and love, and the quick kiss before he shucked off his underwear and stepped into the steaming water, just about made up for the grumpiness of the man he was now partnered with. The sight of Gibbs' well-muscled rear end disappearing behind the shower curtain – now, that made up for everything. Tony was looking forward to seeing a lot more of the man, and soon. "Nice ass, Jethro," he said with a laugh.

Tony went down to the kitchen, put the coffee on, and while he was waiting for it to brew he found a fat red pen in the junk drawer near the telephone. "Only another ten days," he said, and drew a big circle around the date his stitches were due to be removed on the _Wooden Boatbuilding_ calendar hanging on the wall.

«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»

"We leave in five minutes," Gibbs called from downstairs.

"Sure thing, Boss." Tony sat on the bedside chair and pulled on his socks and shoes, frustrated at the amount of effort it was taking. Just getting showered, shaved and dressed had tired him out. He had a feeling he was going to be dragging by lunchtime.

This was Tony's first day back and he was bummed that he was going to be tied to his desk. He yearned to be out working on a case. Even investigating a floater in Rock Creek Pond would be preferable to being stuck in the office while Gibbs and the team were out in the field. If only he had seen the knife a couple of seconds earlier, things might have played out differently. Tony straightened, one hand on his ribs. There had to be something he could do to speed up the healing process so he could get back faster. Maybe he could try one of those mind-over-matter mental exercises he'd read about, or acupuncture, or an herbal remedy that encouraged healing.

Tony rose from the chair, his arm against his side, trying not to wince. He'd decided to forego the sling, figuring that it wouldn't do to draw attention to his injury. Besides, he didn't want Vance to see any evidence that he'd been hurt and start asking questions.

Pocketing his wallet and badge, Tony looked up to find Gibbs standing there, watching him. "I'm just coming."

"You can't speed up healing just by wishing it so, DiNozzo. And you forgot this." Gibbs held up the sling that Tony had tossed aside and stepped forward to help him put it on. "You don't wear it, you're going to rub that wound and it'll take that much longer to heal."

"How'd you know what I was thinking, Boss?" Tony slapped the side of his head and said, "Oh yeah, stupid me: you're Gibbs." That brought out a bright smile on Gibbs' face, and seeing the way he smiled made Tony's heart beat faster. Damn, Jethro was handsome, all sparkling blue eyes and knowing smirk. Tony loved everything about the man, from his callused fingers and scarred knees right down to the freckles – or were they age spots? – that dusted his temples. How had it taken him so long to acknowledge that he had feelings for the man?

"Ready to go?" asked Gibbs, stepping away as soon as he finished adjusting the sling.

"Raring to go," confirmed Tony. He took a deep breath and followed Gibbs downstairs and out to his car.

«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»


	11. Chapter 11

**CHAPTER 11**

Tony braced himself as Gibbs gunned the engine as he drove his Challenger up the ramp and onto the highway at his usual excessive speed. Once they had merged into the morning traffic and Tony had caught his breath, he asked, "Doesn't this seem sort of weird to you?"

"What seems weird?"

"Our relationship."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow.

Suddenly wondering if he'd read too much into it, Tony asked, "It _is_ a relationship, isn't it? What would you call it?"

"Relationship is fine," Gibbs said mildly.

"So, isn't it unexpected how fast this hit both of us? I mean, we've been working together for years, and admittedly we've been through a lot together, but all of a sudden..."

"I think it's been a long time coming, Tony. Maybe it was simply the right time. People mature. Needs change," Gibbs reasoned.

Tony laughed. "_Me_ mature? Okay, okay, I do occasionally think about the white picket fence and all that goes with it, but you have to admit that this is one hell of a change of direction. I mean, look at you: a Marine, with the wives, the career. And me…well, I'm Tony DiNozzo," he said, as if no further explanation was needed.

Gibbs looked at him curiously. "Are you afraid of change?"

"Not afraid, but I need…Look, this is going to sound strange coming from me, but I need stability. Didn't exactly get any when I was a kid." As an adult, Tony always sought to maintain a steady home life, partly due to his unstable childhood but also because of the nature of his work. After a stress-filled, dangerous day on the job, there was nothing like heading home to a favorite movie and a comfortable chair. Not that he said no to going out clubbing with his friends, but Tony liked his alone time, too.

Gibbs was an important part of Tony's foundation, always had been. He was the man Tony could always turn to, the guy who Tony knew could be found working on his boat at 2 a.m. when he needed someone to talk to or to simply hang out with. Gibbs didn't even have to carry on his end of the conversation; being with him was enough. It made sense to Tony that he was attracted to him as a partner, and it didn't hurt that despite being brusque and abrasive at times, Gibbs had a good heart. Plus, he was looking pretty damned hot now that Tony was seeing him through newly awakened eyes.

Gibbs said, "It seems pretty stable to me, two people deciding they're right for each other. Even so, I'm the same guy I've always been. So are you, Tony. We're taking a different road, that's all."

"Yeah, except for us being..." Tony made a back and forth motion between Gibbs and himself with his hand. "You know, a couple." He felt heat rising to his cheeks. "Look, I've never had a girlfriend who lasted more than a couple of weeks, except for undercover girlfriends and they don't count. Do they?" From the look on his face, apparently Gibbs didn't like being reminded of Tony's history so Tony said, "Are you sure? I mean, is this a done deal?"

"If you're asking if this is long-term, well, yeah. That's my take on it, Tony. I'm not going into this half-assed. I'm committed. Are you?"

Tony had to take a moment but in the end he turned to Gibbs and took hold of his hand. "I think…Yeah, I am. I want this. I'm in." It was scary to say but he meant it, with all his heart. He wasn't sure he was ready for all that a relationship with Gibbs entailed, but he had a feeling it was going to be one hell of an interesting experience. Gibbs grinned and gave Tony's hand a squeeze before letting it go. Tony asked, "Do you think we're going to be able to keep this private? I don't want to be the butt of every joke at work. Not that I think this is funny. Just…you know people."

"We can keep it between us," said Gibbs, as if he hadn't given it much thought. "Maybe tell a few friends at some point if you're okay with that."

"You want people to know?" Tony wasn't so sure about spilling the beans. It was a huge step, and once they opened their mouths, there would be no going back. Being outed, especially when this was all so new, when _he_ wasn't yet used to it made his stomach clench. He didn't want to let anyone into their world, not yet. Funny, because he was the guy who always boasted about his latest conquest to anyone who would listen.

"I'm not talking about shouting the news from the rooftops, Tony. Maybe tell Ducky, Abby…people we trust."

"What if I don't want to tell anyone? Other than Palmer, who pretty much figured it out before we did. The moment we tell anyone we're partners, or whatever you want to call it, things will never be the same." Tony could just see it spiraling out of control, what with gossip and talk behind their backs and speculation and… "Oh shit! Vance. He's gonna jump all over this and use it as an excuse to split us up at work. Oh God, I'm going to be reassigned to Alaska or Parris Island or…or North Dakota!"

Although Gibbs' lips twitched in the beginnings of a smile at Tony's choice of locations, he said matter-of-factly, "Then we don't tell anyone. Look, there's no rush, Tony. Let's just concentrate on getting through the day, okay? We'll be fine."

"Bring on the cold cases," Tony said with forced enthusiasm. "Maybe I can get this sling off today." Gibbs glared at him so Tony amended, "Or _not_. How about I just smile a lot and make movie references and everything will seem normal?"

Gibbs asked, as he navigated his way quickly between a couple of slow-moving trucks, "You sure you can handle working together?"

"Of course I can. What d'you think I'm gonna do? Try to hold hands in the bullpen? Jump your bones in the elevator?" Tony drew in a breath as an image came to him of he and Gibbs going at it in the elevator. "The elevator! Can we do it in the elevator?"

"DiNozzo! We haven't even done it in a bed yet," Gibbs growled. "Let's just take this one step at a time. See how you feel about this whole thing. Make sure that this…this being with a man is the right fit for you."

"You think I should be sure that I can deal with being your significant other before I get in too deep?" Tony had a feeling it was too late, that he was already in over his head.

Gibbs took hold of Tony's hand and held onto it securely, driving with only one hand on the wheel. "It's one thing being together in my house, where we're comfortable, and a whole other case when we have to interact with the public. It's only been a few days, Tony."

"What, are you trying to get rid of me already?"

Gibbs rolled his eyes in exasperation. "You might see this from a different perspective after getting back to work. It might be more difficult to handle than you expect."

Tony turned in his seat to view Gibbs' profile. "Being at work isn't going to change how I feel about you."

"Just take the time to think about it," Gibbs said calmly, pulling into the Navy Yard. He released Tony's hand as they approached the security point and pulled out his ID.

As soon as they had shown their credentials and were through, Tony said, "I've done nothing _but_ think about it. I've thought about where we're going to live, and if I can bring my big TV over to your place, and if you'll mind if I throw my laundry in with yours and if I can wear your boxers sometime."

That made Gibbs look sideways at him. "That turn you on? Wearing my underwear?"

"Well, yeah. It would be pretty hot wearing your Sears best under my suit at work."

Gibbs snorted as he parked the car, "I'll make sure to do my laundry tonight."

"Uh…you don't need to," Tony said guiltily.

"_What_?" Gibbs' eyes traveled to Tony's lap. "Oh hell. And there I was, thinking we could get through the day just fine."

Tony grinned. "Well, that was just plain silly, Jethro. So, about the elevator…"

«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»

The moment Tony walked into the NCIS building, he was no longer the man who was in love with Jethro Gibbs. He dropped that part of his identity and took on the persona of Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo, Jr., and nobody was any the wiser.

Tony found it surprisingly easy to keep up the act, but it soon became apparent that his Gibbs was not so adept at hiding his feelings. So much for Gibbs keeping _his_ act together. Although he got right to work, he kept sending glances Tony's way that barely hid his interest in him. At one point when their eyes met, Tony would swear that Gibbs flushed and, from the way he was holding himself, that he had an erection that was conveniently hidden by his desk. Although it was complimentary and as hot as hell that Jethro got turned on by him like that, it wouldn't be long before someone figured out that something was going on between the two men.

Neither Ziva nor Tim had arrived yet, but they were due any moment, and Tony was afraid they'd soon catch on that he and Gibbs had moved on to a whole new level. He had to do something about Gibbs, and time was short. "Coffee?" he suggested, jerking his head in the direction of the break room. Gibbs sighed and walked along with him. It was empty except for them, and Tony fiddled around adding creamer to his cup while he watched Gibbs pour himself a cup of black coffee. Sidling up next to Gibbs, Tony said under his breath, "Uh, Boss? Think you can tone it down a bit?"

"What're you talking about?"

"You're gonna mess up our uh…undercover operation," Tony said, staring at him meaningfully.

Gibbs said stiffly, "I am not…"

"Sorry, Boss, but you are. You keep looking at me like you're picturing me naked."

Gibbs's skin turned a darker hue. He looked around and said tersely, "Well, it's your fault, talking about doing it in the elevator."

Tony choked back a laugh. "Geez, Boss, if I'd know what a turn-on the elevator was for you, I would have taken action a long time ago."

With a big sigh, Gibbs closed his eyes for a few seconds and when he opened them he was all business. "It's time we buckle down to work, Special Agent DiNozzo."

"Of course, Special Agent Gibbs," Tony replied, just as seriously. On their way out, he couldn't help but flash Gibbs a brilliant smile, which caused Gibbs to send him a warning glare as he headed for his desk.

Back in the bullpen, Tony discovered that Tim and Ziva had arrived at work and were powering up their computers. He smiled and declared, "Look at this! One big happy family, together again. Makes me want to break into song or something." Tony flung his good arm out and sang, "The bullpen is alive with the sound of probies…" while he twirled around the center of the bullpen. He came to a sudden stop and hugged his wounded side. "Ow. Ow. Mistake."

"You okay, Tony? What happened to you?" asked Tim, looking with interest at Tony's sling.

"Balboa and I ran into a crazy guy when we were out on a case," Tony said, taking a seat at his desk. "This was while you two were out gallivanting the world, McTestify."

"Make that McConviction," Tim said with a proud smile.

"Way to go, Timmy," Tony said by way of congratulations.

"Maybe Tony is taking part in one of those medical studies where they pay cash," suggested Ziva, as if Tony hadn't already explained. "A guinea hen."

"Guinea pig," Tony corrected instinctively. "And I did not. And you caught the gunrunners, Ms. Mossad?"

"Of course. I was there for the kill," Ziva replied.

"The lions circle their prey at the waterhole," Tony said in the deep voice of a documentary commentator.

"Tell me, Tony, is this sling all for show?" asked Ziva.

McGee frowned at Tony. "Didn't you and your frat brothers sell your blood in college?"

"No, Ziva, I got knifed by a perp. Want to see my stitches?" asked Tony.

"No, no, McGee," corrected Ziva. "That was sperm. It was a sperm bank, was it not? Does that mean that the tellers keep it in safety deposit boxes?"

"I can take off the sling and show you," offered Tony, reaching for the Velcro enclosure up by his neck even though his teammates were doing a good job ignoring him.

McGee pulled a face. "Eeew. That is the last time I touch one of those safety deposit boxes without latex gloves."

Gibbs swept into the bullpen, warning, "You take off that sling and I'll use it to tie you to your chair, DiNozzo." The agents quickly looked busy but they shot right back up when Gibbs announced, "Dead Marine down on C Street. Grab your gear. DiNozzo, sit and stay. Are you gonna do some work while we're gone, or are you planning on making another deposit in the bank?"

"Be right here, Boss, hard at work," Tony said as he watched enviously while his teammates hurried off after Gibbs.

«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»

Work had been going well, better than expected. Gibbs managed to get his blatant interest in Tony under control during work hours. While the team was out in the field, Tony did some valuable, timesaving investigating from his desk and they wrapped up their current case within a couple of days. One good thing was that Vance was away at a conference. Tony knew that a confrontation with the director was inevitable but now that he had Gibbs on his side he wasn't too worried. Okay, he was worried but he managed to remain calm.

"Got a meeting," barked Gibbs as he headed up the stairs towards MTAC. "McGee, take DiNozzo home."

Tony glanced at his watch; it was seven and he was getting hungry. Gibbs had promised pizza for a change – he favored Chinese – and Tony had been whining about it. "But Boss…"

"You can't drive with a sling. And no, you can't take it off."

"C'mon, Tony. We can stop and pick up a pizza and something to drink," enticed McGee.

«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»

"What time's the boss going to be home?" said Tim, looking uneasily around Gibbs' living room, gloomy even with all the lamps turned on.

"Don't worry, he won't be here for a couple of hours. He's stopping after work to pick up some lumber he special-ordered," Tony assured his colleague, doling out slices of pizza onto paper plates on the coffee table.

Tim went and got ice, poured them sodas and sat in one of the easy chairs. "I wanted to tell you, last night I talked to the couple who sublet your condo. They're having a baby and have already put an offer on a house. Looks like you'll be getting your home back sooner than expected, Tony."

That news did not brighten Tony's day as much as one might expect. "Thanks, Tim," he said anyway. "For helping me out with getting my things into storage and renting it on such short notice. It would have been tough to do that from five hundred miles out at sea."

"Glad to help out, Tony. You were sent away so fast I could smell the burning rubber," Tim said, shaking his head. "At least I only got transferred down to the basement."

"Timmy McBaggin, Lord of the Cyber-trolls, toiling away with all your geeky friends in the subterranean mines."

"Funny," Tim said, pulling a face. He waved a hand to indicate Gibbs' home. "I'll bet you'll be glad to get out of here."

"I don't know. It's all right," Tony said nonchalantly. "It could do with some freshening up. Maybe some Martha Stewart camp décor but otherwise…I think it has a charm of its own."

"You cannot like staying here," Tim said, looking horrified. "I mean, this is Gibbs' house, where you have to sleep on an army cot, and eat spam and beans for dinner with a hunting knife for a utensil, and watch the fireplace instead of the TV. It's stuck in early sixties motel décor in avocado green and mustard. His only mode of entertainment is the transistor radio in the basement and it only gets AM."

Tony laughed. "It's not _that_ bad. There's a real TV over there behind the ironing board and Gibbs favors Chinese and uses chopsticks like a pro, and he has been…well, he's been good to me."

After his first day back at work, Tony had returned home with Gibbs, so exhausted that he barely made it through dinner. Tony had collapsed in bed at eight, only to be joined by Gibbs a few minutes later. It wasn't anything like the life that he was used to, but Tony was fast becoming used to falling asleep with Gibbs' arms wrapped securely around him.

Tim stared at Tony and asked, "You get hit in the head again, Tony?"

"Yeah, but it was only a bump." Tony touched his forehead where he'd smacked it on the floor in Autopsy. He felt a need to defend Gibbs, to make Tim understand that Gibbs was a good guy, even if it put his cover in jeopardy. "He brought me back here when I was hurting and really out of it, and he took care of me when I was sick and…and he was there when I needed someone. Okay, he's a grouch at times, but he…he cares," Tony said, his voice trailing off as he thought back to the way Gibbs had literally tucked him into bed, and had brushed his hair back and pressed his warm lips to his forehead.

"You sure we're talking about the same man? Somehow I can't see Gibbs as the nurturing type," Tim said with a derisive laugh.

"Never assume," Tony said, under his breath_._ Knowing it was time to backpedal before Tim caught onto the fact that he was soft on Gibbs, Tony said, with a lighthearted laugh, "You know what? You're right, Probie. So, when are these people moving out? I need to pull my stuff out of storage and back where it belongs and so I can get back to normal."

Tim let out a breath of relief. "You really had me going for a minute there." He said he'd call the renters the next day and confirm their move-out date. "Then we'll all pitch in and get your belongings back, okay, Tony?"

"Thanks, Tim."

Tim was long gone by the time Gibbs returned home. "I made you supper, if you're hungry. Found a frozen beef pie and added some extra macaroni and gravy. It's sort of a casserole kind of thing. Hope it's edible. You'll be happy to know there are no frozen peas in it," said Tony, putting the hot meal on the table.

Gibbs seemed surprised but he chowed down and finished up his meal with a cup of freshly brewed coffee. "Good," he said, with a satisfied sigh.

Tony was happy to get Gibbs' seal of approval. "Didn't have a lot to work with."

Gibbs grunted and after a minute he suggested, "We'll have to stock up on foods you like. Easy stuff we can heat quick when we come in late."

That simple statement just about floored Tony. "Um…are you saying I should move in here, Jethro?"

"Didn't we settle that already?"

"No, no we didn't," Tony said, a bit bemused.

"I want you here," Gibbs said plainly.

Tony bowed his head to hide the emotion that threatened to overwhelm him, because he'd never felt quite so wanted before and he didn't know how to handle it.

"I want you, Tony. All of you." Gibbs pulled Tony to his feet and into a hug.

"Jethro," he said, his voice unsteady. Gibbs shushed him and ran his hands up and down his back like he was gentling a horse. Tony relaxed into it, feeling Gibbs' breath hot against his ear, and all too soon Tony was breathing harder and his dick was reacting to being pressed against Gibbs' hard thigh. A little embarrassed, Tony tried to pull away, but Gibbs ordered, "No, stay with me," and Tony yielded.

Somewhere along the line, arousal took a back seat to the warmth and comfort that fully enveloped him, and by the time Gibbs released him with a smile, and patted his cheek, Tony was feeling relaxed and content.

They stayed close to each other, bumping shoulders as they put the dishes in the sink and stuck the remains of the food in the fridge. Tony yawned, ready for bed, wondering if he was going to get a repeat of the past few nights, with going to sleep secure in Gibbs' arms. He shouldn't have wondered because Gibbs climbed into bed, kissed him good night and settled behind him as if it were the most natural thing in the world before promptly falling asleep.

«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»


	12. Chapter 12

**CHAPTER 12**

A few days later, on the very day that Vance was due to return from a trip to the Los Angeles office, Ducky gave Tony permission to remove the sling.

"Finally," said Tony with a dramatic roll of his eyes. He'd amended his report on the Lieutenant Hannaford case to explain the circumstances of his injury. Ducky added a succinctly written description of the medical aide he'd given to Tony, carefully wording it so it sounded as though he had been Tony's first choice to tend his wound, and not Jimmy Palmer. "Thanks, Ducky," Tony said sincerely.

Ducky nodded and said sternly, "Let us hope there will not be a next time, dear boy. However, as we both know that that is highly unlikely, I expect you to avail yourself of the services of our local emergency room. I think that it is best to save your friends for friendlier pursuits."

Tony made his way up to the bullpen, using the stairs, but as soon as he stepped out of the stairwell, Gibbs walked up to him. "You're with me, DiNozzo." Tony followed him into an empty office, wondering what the subterfuge was all about.

"We got a case in Pennsylvania, and you're staying here."

"But Boss…"

"Hey, you're still not cleared for field duty, Tony." Gibbs kept his voice down when he said, "This is going to take two or three days. You know I want you with me…"

Hating that he was going to be left behind, Tony tried to put on a positive face. "It looks like I'll be manning the fort again."

"Don't stay here all night."

"No, I won't. This'll be a good time to move my stuff back into my condo," Tony said absently. "My bag finally arrived from the _Seahawk_." There was a duffle bag downstairs in a storage locker, containing his clothes, a few CDs and books, and a cool Hawaiian shirt he'd found in Cartegena because it looked like something Magnum would wear. Gibbs had been in such a hurry to get them off the ship that Tony had had to arrange for his gear to be sent along after him.

His renters had vacated that morning and the carpets had been cleaned, so making the transition back to his own place would give him something to do while Gibbs was gone. He had a feeling that the evenings were going to seem very long during Gibbs' absence. He looked up to find Gibbs glaring at him and wondered what he'd said that had earned him such a dark look.

"You think you can manage not to overdo it? You're still recuperating." Gibbs indicated Tony's injured side. "You're not going to pass the physical next week just by flashing a pretty smile at the doctor, DiNozzo."

Normally Tony would have had a quick comeback to Gibbs saying he had a pretty smile, but Gibbs' tone made Tony refrain. "I think I can handle putting a few clothes away, Boss. Abby and Jimmy offered to help me lug my stuff over there from storage. I won't exactly be straining myself but my side feels a lot better," he said, touching the place where he'd been cut.

Gibbs was still glowering at him. "How is it you always manage to find trouble?"

Tony quickly retorted, "And there I was, thinking trouble always found _me_. C'mon, Boss, I was doing my job, and as Balboa will tell you, I disarmed the guy and the damage was kept to a minimum." Tony huffed out a humorless laugh. "Anyway, look who's talking. You're always jumping right into the fray."

"_I'm_ talking, and this is about _you_," said Gibbs, getting in Tony's face. "I don't want to come back and find you've done something stupid to put your recovery back another couple of weeks."

"What's the matter, you worried you won't be getting any sex if I'm not in good shape?" Tony could see he'd hit a mark from the look in Gibbs' eyes, and he regretted immediately saying it.

"If I was only in this for the sex, DiNozzo, I would have made a move a long time ago," Gibbs said in a low, cutting tone.

"What? You're saying I'm easy? Low blow, Jethro." No matter what had made Gibbs change from a concerned friend and lover to a pissy boss, Tony didn't intend to stay around and take what he was dishing out. "You know what? I think you need to go on your little road trip, and I need to get back to work," Tony said, his voice tight. He turned on his heel and strode back to the bullpen where he sat at his desk, trying to keep his temper under control. If he slammed a drawer a bit louder than was necessary or glared angrily at his computer screen, well, it was better than lashing out at Gibbs. Neither of them would win if they continued the verbal sparring.

Gibbs was a stubborn man, but once he came to grips with whatever was eating at him, he'd realize that he hadn't been giving Tony a fair shake. That's what Tony expected of him, and if Gibbs didn't figure it out and apologize – or offer whatever Gibbs' equivalent of an apology might be – then Tony was going to walk away before he got really badly hurt. He cared enough about Gibbs that it was a very real possibility, and it hurt him to even _think_ that they might split up before they even got together.

McGee and Ziva sent Tony curious looks and tried to talk to him, but he stuck to business and, for a change, they got the message to leave him alone. He expected that his teammates thought that he was put out because he couldn't go with them on the trip. That was somewhat true, but Tony was also relieved that he was going to have some time to himself. It was hard to think with Gibbs so close all the time, and he had some serious thinking to do – like whether or not he was going to move in with Gibbs, how they were going to conduct their lives together, and if they were going to hide their relationship from the world. That was, if they could sit down and talk to each other without slinging insults.

It would be tough to live perpetually undercover. They'd need to watch every word and gesture they made towards each other, always afraid of being found out. The consequences of discovery would mean big changes at work, different teams, maybe working in different cities. They'd be living a lie, and for God knows how long. Would it be worth it? Just thinking about the strain gave him a headache.

And what about keeping their relationship out of the office? He could just picture it if Gibbs was hurt, how difficult it would be to continue acting in a professional manner. Maybe Gibbs was right, and keeping the job and a personal life separate was going to be too much for them to handle. The problem was that even if they halted this before it went any further, hadn't they already let the cat out of the bag? There was sure to be sexual tension of the unfulfilled kind gnawing at them.

McGee came over to Tony's desk and asked in an undertone, "Tony, you going to be okay?"

Offering Tim his best DiNozzo smile, Tony replied, "Of course. While you are staying, three to one Motel 8 room where the beds are lumpy and Ziva is going to be snoring up a storm, I am going to dine well and be back in my very own bed for the first time in almost five months. Thank you for showing concern, Probie," he said, and then turned back to his work.

"You don't really think we're going to have to share one room, do you?" asked Tim, pulling a face.

Tony smiled knowingly. "Let me suggest that you get dibs on the back seat of the car and pack your own pillow."

A short while later, when Gibbs came to the bullpen to retrieve his handgun and coat, Tony didn't even look up. He felt, rather than saw, Gibbs hesitate as he passed his desk. Tony knew that Gibbs was about to say something to him, and was prepared to remain calm and collected, but McGee started to ask Gibbs about some details of the case. A couple of minutes later Gibbs, McGee and Ziva had collected their gear and were gone.

«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»

Palmer joined Tony in the elevator and handed him a white paper bag. "Glad I caught you. I figured that you missed breakfast again. I got an extra coffee and muffin for you."

"Thanks, Jimmy," Tony said in a subdued voice, accepting the offering.

"No word yet?"

Tony shrugged. "No. McTravelmug has been sending me sit-reps but they can't stop for social calls. Especially not Gibbs."

Jimmy nodded in understanding. "You should know by now it's not his style. Hey, speaking of style, we haven't finished our movie marathon: _Funny Face_, _Unzipped_…I liked Audrey Tatou in _Coco Chanel_."

"_Kinky Boots_, we have to see that one. 'I have to warn you, I have a terrible habit of doing exactly the opposite of what people want of me.'"

"You _are_ going to watch it with me, aren't you? Come over to my place."

The elevator door slid open and Tony stepped out. ""I don't know. Depends."

Jimmy held the door open with his hand. "If he doesn't come back tonight, Tony–"

"It's fine. I don't mind being on my own." _Liar_, thought Tony. All he wanted to be back in Gibbs' house, in bed with Gibbs snuggling up behind him, and Gibbs snoring in his ear, hot breath on his neck. And sex. He wanted sex with Gibbs. Just thinking about it had been driving him crazy, especially that first night, with Gibbs away on the job. Tony had tried to sleep in the big bed all alone, and had ended up jerking off, shouting Gibbs' name. _Jethro, fuck fuck, Jethro!_ He'd felt faintly guilty afterwards, wishing he'd waited for Jethro to make love to him. Except they had to sort out whatever had made him lash out at Tony first, and Gibbs might not be prepared to go to such lengths as to say he was sorry for the way he'd spoken to him.

"Tony–"

"No, it's okay, Jimmy."

Jimmy stepped out of the elevator onto the main floor and the doors closed behind him. Tony started to speak but Jimmy forestalled him by saying, in a low voice so they couldn't be overheard by the NCIS employees walking by, "Look Tony, just because he hasn't called you doesn't mean he's changed his mind or anything."

Tony stared at Jimmy and forced a laugh. "Who said anything about anyone changing their mind?"

"I didn't say that…well, I _did_ but my point is that, of all people for you to fall in love with, you couldn't have chosen anyone as steadfast as him. Now, I know he can't get the words out, but we both know he's crazy about you. Yes he is," Jimmy insisted, grabbing Tony's arm when he turned away.

"Jimmy, I don't want to talk about this, and after what he said to me–" Tony's words had no effect on the young man, who pulled him to a quiet spot around the corner from the elevators.

"Don't do this, Tony," Jimmy ordered.

"Do what? C'mon, I have to get to work." Tony raised his arms. "See, the physical therapy has paid off and I'll be ready and set to go the next time we get a call to grab our gear," he said with forced happiness. He was glad that the sling was gone, and his injured side had healed up faster than expected. That was probably due to Gibbs' constant barking at him to keep the sling on, to stop stretching before he was medically cleared to do so. God, he missed him even if right now he almost hated him.

"First thing you need to do, is to sit down with Gibbs and tell him…Tony, one of you has to start the ball rolling."

Tony sighed. "And we both know that I have to be the one."

"You need to make it clear what you need from him. If it's an apology then say so. And _listen_ to him. Obviously his former wives didn't have a clue as to what makes the man tick, so at least you have a head start there," Jimmy said lightly.

"But…when McGee called last night, he asked Gibbs if he wanted to talk to me and I heard him…I heard him say _no_," Tony said, almost at a whisper. "It's a load of bullshit when they say that absence makes the heart grow fonder."

Jimmy smiled sympathetically. "It seems to me that you've proven that it's true. Look, tell you what, we'll go to lunch, talk some more. Right now I have to get downstairs and…"

They parted, Tony heading for the bullpen. It took him a full five seconds, once he got there, to realize that McGee was seated at his desk, and Ziva was behind hers, rummaging in her bag and muttering about something she couldn't find.

"You're back!" Tony cried, looking around for Gibbs. The only sign that the man had been there was an empty coffee cup on his desk and the faint scent of sawdust on the air, or so Tony imagined. "Where's the bossman?"

"Talking to the director," McGee said, smiling in a way that said that he was happy to be home.

"You bring back the bad guy?"

McGee's face fell. "The local PD got jurisdiction."

"I thought you guys had it all tied up," Tony said, going to his desk but keeping half an eye on the staircase for when Gibbs came down. "Didn't the money trail I found set him up for a fall?"

McGee said, "You were right on the money, Tony, and we caught him. It isn't that. It's a long story and not worth repeating if I want to save my ego."

Ziva pitched in, "They used their own ME and would not give up the evidence. They…they submarined us–"

"Torpedoed," said both Tim and Tony at the same time.

"Yes, torpedoed. Anyway, I was surprised that Gibbs did not put up more of a fight. It was not like him at all, was it, McGee?"

"He didn't seem himself," Tim said thoughtfully. "We're all glad to be back in DC, though. You were right about the motel situation, Tony."

"Snoring?" Tony asked, keeping his voice quiet. McGee nodded and rolled his eyes.

"He was acting unlike himself," agreed Ziva, still musing about Gibbs' behavior.

Tim added, "I think maybe the boss is coming down with something."

"Gibbs is sick? He never gets sick. Colds run away when they see him coming." Tony glanced up but there was still no sign of the man. If he wasn't feeling well he was sure to be extra grouchy but, on the other hand, Tony could warm up chicken soup as well as the next guy with a can opener.

Tim said, "We're sick of being in his company. He was…crotchety. Ornery."

Tony laughed. "Ornery? What is this, _Bonanza_? You mean he was grouchy?"

"Grouchy, out of temper, mulish," added Ziva, on a roll. Tony noticed that she kept a sharp eye out for Gibbs while she was offering her opinion of his state of mind.

"I'm sorry," said Tony. "I thought…I thought you said he was acting _differently_?"

Ziva laughed and leaned against Tony's desk. "So Tony, I hear you have been giving blood. Are you…sick? Perhaps you infected Gibbs. You two have been so close lately."

Trying not to read too much into her choice of words, Tony kept his eyes on his computer screen. "No, I'm not sick, Zeeva. I've been recuperating from a wound I got in the line of duty."

"Yes, we know all about that. You told us about how brave you were, several times." Ziva looked Tony up and down. "I see you have finally removed the sling. Perhaps it was a…a…what do they use in movies? A prop, that is it."

"I wore the sling because I got sliced by a crazy guy with a big knife, but I'm feeling better now, thank you very much for asking," Tony retorted. Well, that wasn't exactly true. He didn't feel in top form because he hadn't been sleeping all that well. It had been difficult to get comfortable without Gibbs in bed with him. Plus he'd been thinking a lot. The question was, now that Gibbs was back, was he going to sleep any better?

Gibbs came down from his meeting with the director and sat at his desk. "DiNozzo," he called across the bullpen without raising his eyes. "You got your condo sorted out?"

"Uh, yeah, Boss. Everything in its place. Home sweet home," he said with mock cheerfulness. "I had to change the locks." Gibbs looked up and met his eyes and even from across the room Tony could see he was annoyed about something. Tony reached into his pocket and pulled out his key ring. "Oh, you'll want a spare key."

Tony was still trying to get the spare off the ring when Gibbs' voice cut across the bullpen. "No."

"You don't…? But you always want the key." He thought of the fuss Gibbs had made about getting a key 'for emergencies' when he'd found out Tony was staying at Jimmy Palmer's apartment.

"Give it to Ducky," Gibbs said and went back to his work.

«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»

Tony was cleared by his own doctor as well as by Ducky. That was days ago. He'd been sleeping at his own place, and although he had been left wondering what the hell was going on in Gibbs' mind, Tony did love his condo, especially after being forced to leave home for the four months he was Agent Afloat. As far as Gibbs went, well, if he was going to be an ass, then there wasn't much Tony could do about it. Gibbs was just going to have to apologize before they went a step further in their relationship. Tony's rules. Okay, it was currently a non-relationship but Tony was willing to wait it out.

He still had to put up with weekly blood draws but Ducky was gentle. The ME assured him that he'd talk to the Surgeon General that day and convince him that Tony wasn't carrying the plague, as they'd thought at first.

Tony saw Gibbs every day while at work and they treated each other in a professional manner. To most people, Gibbs appeared to be his usual self, abrupt and demanding, but both Ziva and Tim could sense a strained undercurrent between Tony and Gibbs.

"What have you done to make Gibbs angry with you? You must make it right," demanded Ziva.

"Can you just do something to say you're sorry, Tony, so we can all get back to normal?" pleaded McGee. "If this is about the key…"

"No it isn't about a key! And what makes you think it's my fault, anyway? Look, I'm not telling Gibbs I'm sorry for anything when…" _When it isn't my fault._ "When it's against the rules," Tony said firmly.

Even Abby asked Tony why Gibbs was acting oddly towards him. "It's sort of like he can't stand you around but he can't take his eyes off you, either, Tony, like he's fascinated by you in a five-car-pile-up-with-gore-smeared-across-the-road kind of way. You know what I mean?"

«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»

The phone on Tony's desk rang. It was Director Vance's assistant, Rochelle, informing him he was to report to Vance's office right away. Gibbs hadn't come back; Tony had a feeling that he was in deep shit.

Rochelle ushered Tony in and the first thing he saw was Gibbs, standing in front of the director's desk. Tony walked across the plush carpet and stood beside Gibbs.

"Special Agent DiNozzo," said Vance, his tone stern.

"Sir." Tony glanced at Gibbs, trying to get a sense of what was going on. Gibbs didn't turn his head and the fact that he was practically standing at attention in front of the director's desk did not bode well.

Vance was looking at Gibbs with narrowed eyes, his lips pursed as he contemplated his next words. When he spoke, it was a command. "Sit. Both of you." He indicated the chairs directly in front of his desk.

If anything, Gibbs stood straighter. Tony watched him, awaiting his cue. For a moment he thought that Gibbs was going to outright refuse, but then, without any fanfare, he took a seat. Back still ramrod straight, eyes ahead, but he sat. Tony took the chair next to him and tried to appear something between relaxed and attentive, which wasn't easy because he was uptight and nervous as hell.

Vance made a noise that was somewhere between a groan and a sigh, apparently accepting that Gibbs was not going to give an inch. Tony had no clue what was causing the friction, but he was concerned that it might have something to do with him. If so, there was no way he was going to allow Gibbs to do anything that might jeopardize his job and career. Not for _his_ sake, of that Tony was certain.

Vance turned his dark eyes in Tony's direction. "Special Agent, DiNozzo, a report came across my desk this morning that concerns me."

Tony raised a politely questioning eyebrow. _Oh shit, here it comes. He's found out about Gibbs and me. He's going to try to shame me into quitting, or coerce me into taking a position overseas. Shit, shit! We haven't even done anything yet and we get busted. And Gibbs, what's the director going to do to him?_

Vance said, "It appears, Agent DiNozzo, that you have been trying to hide something from me."

Tony looked at Gibbs but he was watching the director with narrowed eyes. He looked pissed. This was not good.

The director said to Tony, "I heard that while you were working on the Hannaford investigation, you were injured."

_What_? Tony closed his eyes for a second, willing his heart to stop beating as if it were trying to escape from his chest. _Is that all?_ Well, it was inevitable that the director would find out about that, and at least he didn't know about their relationship, whatever state it was currently in. Tony decided that this was a good time to keep to the facts – just the facts, ma'am. "Yes, Director Vance. Agent Balboa and I were attacked by a suspect who we were seeking for questioning."

"I understand that he used a knife?"

Tony said, "Yes, sir." Vance inspected Tony, but as there was no sign of any injury, there was nothing to see. Before Vance could speak, Tony added, "It's healed up now and I re-qualified for field duty just this morning." He turned to Gibbs and said, "Got a 240 out of 250, Boss."

Gibbs turned to look at him for the first time since Tony entered the room. "Better get you some time on the range then, DiNozzo, to get that score up to 250," he said evenly.

"C'mon, Boss. You know nobody ever gets a perfect score," said Tony with a laugh. Gibbs raised his eyebrows and Tony quickly said, "Except you, of course. I'll book it for first thing in the morning."

Gibbs said seriously, "Yes you will, and I'll be there, DiNozzo."

"Should I be worried, Boss?" asked Tony, with a hint of a smile, relieved that Gibbs was playing along with him.

"Depends on how you score tomorrow," Gibbs replied with a smirk.

Vance interrupted. "Gentlemen, if you have finished arranging your schedule, let's get back to Lieutenant Hannaford. As you know, the lieutenant was a close family friend and…well, his passing has affected my whole family. I'd like to thank your team, Gibbs, for wrapping up the investigation so quickly, and with the minimum of fanfare."

Gibbs nodded, accepting the praise. "As you pointed out, it was a team effort. Abby's forensics, Balboa and DiNozzo doing the field work, and Dr. Mallard, of course."

"Yes, I read Balboa's report, and see he revised it to reflect the incident with the attack DiNozzo. He says…" Vance paused to pick up a paper off his desk. "He says that if Special Agent DiNozzo had not acted so quickly, he is convinced that he would have been the recipient of a serious knife wound, and that Agent DiNozzo acted bravely, at grave risk to his own person, in order to subdue a dangerous criminal."

Tony was taken aback, not only by Dino Balboa's words, but by Vance reading them aloud. There had to be a catch.

Sure enough, Vance's voice lowered as he said, "It was sloppy of your agents, Gibbs, not to have searched the suspect as soon as they encountered him and–"

Tony broke in, saying, "I'm sorry, Director, but we had only just encountered the guy, in a narrow hallway, and hadn't yet ID'd him as a possible breaking and entering suspect we were seeking."

Vance looked displeased at the interruption. "I'll give you that, DiNozzo, but there is also the fact that, once it was over and you were back at NCIS, you made no attempt to report your wound. You didn't even write it up until long after the fact, and only, I suspect, because Special Agent Gibbs ordered you to do so." Tony opened his mouth to defend his actions but Vance raised a hand to stop him. "In addition, you didn't go directly to an emergency room, but instead commandeered the services of Mr. Palmer, who is not qualified to handle wounds of that nature."

"Yes, sir, you're correct. I did take advantage of Mr. Palmer. I coerced him, and–" Tony was halted by Gibbs putting a hand on his arm.

Gibbs shook his head slightly that it took Tony a moment to catch on that Gibbs was telling him to shut up. There was a look of anticipation in his eyes; something was going on.

As if on cue, there was a knock at the door and Ducky stuck his head in. "Oh dear, I am _so_ sorry to interrupt, everyone. I assured your assistant that it would be all right to allow me entry, Director."

"I'm sorry, Director, but…" Rochelle said as she tried to block Ducky from entering.

Ducky skillfully maneuvered around the frazzled looking secretary and said, "Yes, thank you dear, as you can see I am fine now."

Vance made an impatient gesture towards Rochelle and she retreated, closing the door behind her.

Ducky approached Vance's desk, a file folder in one hand, and halted next to Tony's chair. He gave him a squeeze on the shoulder when he started to rise. "No, my dear boy. You stay put. This won't take a minute, will it…Leon? I just wanted to personally hand in my report on the Lieutenant Hannaford case. I was remiss and completely forgot to add my report on the emergency care I provided to Special Agent DiNozzo. My assistant, Mr. Palmer, saved the day, you know. He did emergency surgery on Anthony and stemmed the flow of blood in my absence. I was summoned and returned just in time to check on his work. Mark my words, Mr. Palmer will make a fine doctor one day. Now, allow me to outline my results in the case."

Tony listened with suppressed glee as Ducky went over his findings from the autopsy, and then related his side of the incident, leaving Vance no room to find anyone at fault. Ducky wrapped it up by pointing out that teamwork was the key to such a successful outcome, and he made everyone sound indispensable. By the time Ducky launched into an illustrative tale from his days in Borneo as a medical student, Vance had had enough and shooed them all out.

They left Vance's office with Tony receiving a mild warning, and he knew he'd gotten off easy. As soon as he, Ducky and Gibbs were safely in the elevator, Tony said, "Thanks, Ducky."

"My boy, we all know that you showed poor judgment by not dealing with your injury immediately. I know that you will not repeat it. I expect that Director Vance will look at you a wee bit more favorably from now on."

"Vance is being paid to be suspicious," Gibbs pointed out. "He wasn't sent here to make friends."

"Ah no, and cleaning house of all the riffraff can be so tedious, especially when one cannot see what lies directly under your own nose." Ducky looked directly at Gibbs when he said that.

"My eyesight's just fine," Gibbs replied, not appearing to be very amused.

Ducky peered at him critically. "My mistake. I was led to believe that you are quite far-sighted, Jethro."

"I can see plenty good when I need to."

"Ah, but do you want to?" asked Ducky, with a quirk of a smile.

Tony looked from Ducky to Gibbs and back again, not quite sure what the two men were inferring.

The elevator halted on the lower level and Ducky patted Tony's arm. "I'm getting off here. Back to work. If I don't see you again, I hope that the both of you have a splendid weekend," he said with a pleasant smile.

«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»


	13. Chapter 13

This is the last chapter of this story. Thanks everyone for your comments. They are always appreciated!

**CHAPTER 13**

As soon as they got back to the bullpen another case came in. This time, Tony joined the team out in the field for the first time since being injured. He got back into the swing of things without any trouble, diligently taking photos and doing sketches around the residence that was the scene of the crime. In fact, Tony was so intent upon doing a good job that he forgot to make jokes and talk about movies and girlfriends until Ziva asked him, in a concerned voice, if he was all right.

After that Tony made sure to point out that the deceased officer's wife was his choice for the prime suspect in her husband's shooting death. "It's always the wife. She reminds me of Rita Hayworth in the classic film _Gilda_. The casino boss finds out that his sensuous new wife and his right-hand man already know each other. Murder ensues."

"And how is that anything like this crime?" asked Ziva, annoyed. "There is no casino, and no right-hand man."

"Our deceased is Navy Lieutenant Commander Jeffries, Disbursing Officer, and _that_ man over there," said Tony, pointing at a good-looking civilian who was comforting the red-headed widow out on the front lawn, "is being familiar enough with 'Gilda' to indicate that they've known each other for a while." He quoted, "'Doesn't it bother you at all that you're married?' And Gilda says, 'What I want to know is, does it bother you?' C'mon, Ziva, you gotta love it!"

Ziva frowned and said, "I thought her name was Marilee."

Tony just laughed and called to Gibbs, who was heading towards the van, "Boss?"

Gibbs didn't miss a beat, calling over his shoulder, "Better bring Gilda in for questioning, DiNozzo."

Tony was running on adrenaline – and the desire to make Gibbs pay attention to him – but by the late afternoon, he was pretty much out of steam. To make matters worse, Gibbs hadn't talked to him except to give him the occasional order. It was as if Tony was, once again, just one of the team. The way Gibbs was acting, you'd never think that there was anything between them. Tony had expected some little meeting of the eyes, a knowing gaze. God, that sounded sappy, but that was how he felt. By the time dinnertime rolled around and they were finishing up for the night, Tony was ready to go home – _his_ home – and sack out.

Gibbs powered down his computer and said, "Nothing more we can do tonight. Gilda's lawyered up. Everyone go home." Ziva and Tim wasted no time in gathering their gear together and heading out. Tony stayed at his desk, knowing he had to have a word with Gibbs before any more time went by.

It looked as though Gibbs was thinking the same thing because he said, "My place. I'll pick up something on the way."

Tony nodded and although they took the elevator together down to the parking garage, neither of them said anything. They got in their own cars and drove towards Gibbs' home.

«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»

After poking at the Chinese food with his chopsticks for a while, Tony gave up pretending he wanted to eat. Gibbs got up from the dining room table and went into the kitchen. When he returned he placed a cup of coffee in front of Tony and said, "It's the kind you like."

Tony sniffed it and smiled – hazelnut. Gibbs placed sugar and a small carton of cream at his elbow as if it were an offering. "Thanks, Boss."

Gibbs settled at the table, across from Tony, and studied him long enough to make him feel uncomfortable. "You're not _easy_," Gibbs said bluntly, as if he was having trouble getting the words out.

It took Tony a moment to catch on that Gibbs was referring to their earlier conversation. "Oh. No, I'm not easy." He waited to see if Gibbs was going to add anything to his statement, like 'I'm sorry' although Tony wasn't holding his breath.

"It was never about the sex, Tony," Gibbs said.

"Just so we're clear about what we're talking about here, you mean the sex we haven't _had_ yet? The sex we haven't had because I don't jump into bed with every Tom, Dick and Harry? That is what you're talking about, right? Well, I don't sleep around even if I make out that I do. I might exaggerate sometimes and if you ever tell anyone I said that, I'll deny it and leave town," Tony joked.

"I got it, Tony," Gibbs said.

"I know it's not easy but still need you to talk to me. Jethro. Even though I think I know you, I can't always figure out what's going on inside that head of yours. You've been hot and cold, and sometimes you say things that have me wondering if I'm imagining this connection we have."

Gibbs stared at Tony and then he sighed and his shoulders sagged a little. "Yeah. Ever since you tackled me in Baltimore," he said, putting weight behind every word, "there's been something special between us, a connection. When I realized that we were heading into unknown territory, I got…I got cold feet, I guess you'd call it." He ran and hand over his mouth and inhaled a deep breath. "Look, what I'm trying to say is, I know that what we have together is special, so if…so _when_ I mess up or head off in the wrong direction, I'm relying on you to remind me of what we mean to each other. Sometimes I can't see straight and I'm afraid it's gonna be your job to make me see. That is, if you want to take me on."

"Wow. Does this mean I get _carte blanche_ to headslap you if you go off track, Jethro?" Tony loved that Gibbs was able to speak his mind like this and even though he was joking around, he was honored that Gibbs felt safe enough to open up. Tony had a feeling that he hadn't done so for a very long time.

Gibbs sent Tony a look that clearly said, 'Are you crazy?'

"Hey, I had to ask."

"Now why do I get the feeling that if I give you an inch you're gonna take a mile?"

"Because you know me so well?" Tony asked with a grin.

"Yeah, I do, Tony. And I hope I'll get to know you even better tonight."

Tony had to sit on his hands so he didn't reach out for Gibbs. "I think I need to go home tonight. I'm really beat and I think I'd regret it if we end up in bed right now. I want you but…I'm not sure I'm ready for this."

A flash of disappointment crossed Gibbs features, but he nodded. "You're right. We need to be well rested. Prepared. We'll make a plan. Get in supplies."

That made Tony laugh. "You make it sound like you're mounting a military strike. How about we play it by ear? Start with dinner or a drink or something?"

"Like a date?"

"Maybe."

Gibbs nodded and seemed to like that idea. "I might be a bit rusty but I can do that. Are you all right to drive home? You can still sleep here if you want," he offered.

Tony was tempted but for once he did the sensible thing. "I can drive. I'd like a goodnight kiss though. If that's all right without drawing up a campaign plan first."

Gibbs appeared to be amused but he didn't waste any time walking around the table and pulling Tony to his feet. "You never have to ask for a kiss," Gibbs said and gave him a kiss, gentle yet full of need, his hands running up Tony's back before settling on his ass.

Tony's arms went around Gibbs' neck and he tipped his head, moaning into the kiss. His heartbeat quickened and he leaned into Gibbs' solid body, enjoying the feeling of strength that emanated from the man, the familiar scent of his skin, the steady beat of Gibbs' heart under his hand where it rested on his chest. Tony shivered when Gibbs' tongue slowly swiped across his lips, tasting him, and the deep kiss that followed drew the breath right out of him and made him weak at the knees.

Their lips parted far too soon and left Tony panting.

Gibbs sighed against his cheek. "Don't keep me waiting too long."

«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»

Tony spent the next morning at the DMV, getting his car's expired papers up to date, and it needed a tune-up after being in storage for almost five months. By the time he'd done a quick run around the supermarket, retrieved his best suit from the cleaners and went home to do his laundry, the day was pretty much gone. He was famished and heated up a dish of lasagna he'd picked up at an Italian market that sold pre-cooked meals.

Calling Gibbs crossed his mind about a hundred times that day, but what was he going to say? Can I come over so we can fuck for the first time and get it over with so I won't be so nervous about it any more? Or maybe, can we take this from the top and go out to dinner and a movie and act like dating a guy is just a walk in the park? It wasn't that he didn't want Jethro, because he did. It was just…actually, Tony didn't know what was holding him back, which was probably where the problem lay. God, he knew he was going to mess this up, no matter what approach he took. Okay, dinner alone, a drink and fall asleep to a movie. Maybe a film noir. Yeah, that was a plan he could live with.

Tony had just finished eating the lasagna, which wasn't half bad when accompanied by a large glass of wine, and was contemplating which film to watch, when there was a knock at his door. Most people used his doorbell so he was a little startled until he opened the door and found Gibbs standing there. The first thing Tony noticed was that Gibbs was wearing a finely knit sweater in a blue that matched his eyes. It looked like cashmere and he barely stopped himself from reaching out to stroke Gibbs' chest. The next thing he took in was that Gibbs appeared nervous, which was really odd because Tony couldn't recall ever seeing his boss in such a state.

Gibbs shifted his weight and cleared his throat, prompting Tony to step back and usher him inside with a broad sweep of his arm. They stood in the middle of Tony's living room and pretty much avoided looking at each other until Tony thought how ridiculous this was.

Apparently so did Gibbs because he asked, "Gonna offer me a drink?"

"Sure. Beer or something stronger?"

"Beer," said Gibbs, although his expression suggested he really wanted a bourbon.

They sat on the couch, an arm's length away from each other, their beers sitting untouched on the coffee table. Gibbs was looking at him intently but Tony wasn't sure where to start. He didn't even know what Gibbs' intentions were. Actually, the guy looked like he was about to go out on a date, and as soon as he thought that, Tony's stomach lurched – maybe Gibbs had dropped by on his way to a date with someone else, with a woman. _Oh God._ That thought hurt, like really _hurt_, and even though Tony tried to keep it in the pain must have shown on his face, because next thing he knew, Gibbs moved close and took hold of his hands.

"Tony, don't…_don't_. I never meant to hurt you, damn it. I never seem to be able to say the right thing, but I do care about you, a lot, and I'm... Damn it, I want to be with you, and if you'll give me a chance…"

Tony couldn't help laughing in relief. Now it was Gibbs' turn to look hurt. He withdrew his hands so Tony quickly said, "No, no! I'm not laughing at you. It's just that I've never heard you talk like that and I'm…I feel…" This was not a time for words. "Oh _hell_." Tony grabbed fistfuls of Gibbs' hair and kissed him hard, putting all of his pent-up feelings of love and desire and want into the kiss. Next thing he knew, he was being pressed into the couch and Gibbs was kissing him as if he couldn't get enough of him. Tony pushed back, wanting Gibbs to fight him, to prove he was willing to fight _for_ him.

Gibbs took the cue and ground his hips against Tony's, breathing heavily against his neck. He pinned him down until Tony stopped struggling. There was no getting out from under Gibbs. He was heavy, solid muscle, and the feeling of being pinned in place, of being helpless and under _Gibbs_, was such an exquisite turn-on that Tony laughed with joy.

Gibbs lifted his head from where he was sucking on Tony's jaw, and looked at him with narrowed eyes. "You want…want this," he said, understanding Tony's need.

Tony nodded. "Can we…can we take this into the bedroom?" Gibbs looked at him with eyes so dark that Tony had trouble saying, "I've got studded condoms and mango lube."

Gibbs snorted and kissed him again, only this time he was slow and deliberate, with a warm, slippery tongue, and Tony forgot all about moving to the bedroom and ran his hands over the firm swell of Gibbs' ass and up his back. He gripped his shirt and pulled at it, shoving it up and out of the way so he could slide his hands across Gibbs' hot, damp skin. Tony stuck his nose in Gibbs' chest and inhaled. God, he smelled so good, like freshly cut pine and sweat.

They got hot and heavy for a while, exploring any exposed flesh they could get their hands and lips upon. They groped and grunted and humped against each other until Tony sank his teeth into Gibbs' shoulder. That must have been a green-light zone for Gibbs. He hauled Tony to his feet, nothing gentle about it, and said roughly, "Bedroom. Now."

Gibbs didn't seem to have a problem with the bed being a single. Tony had had it custom made, and it was wider and longer than the standard twin. By the time Tony had stripped off his shirt and had his pants unzippered, Gibbs was naked. For some reason that shook Tony. He'd expected Gibbs to be the same undershirt-and-boxers kind of guy he'd been in his own home. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Tony quickly followed suit, kicking off his pants and underwear, all the time admiring Gibbs' naked form.

Gibbs in really good shape for a guy who was over fifty, but it was his cock and balls that interested Tony. It wasn't just that Gibbs was well hung, which he was, with a thick dark, uncut penis – now Tony had the right to touch it, and he was dry-mouthed with anticipation. "I've…uh…I've never handled…uh…before." He could feel his face getting hot. Gibbs stepped close and waited, his nostrils flaring a bit, looking almost predatory. Suddenly it seemed like it was the most important thing in the world for Tony to reach out to touch the thickening penis that was jutting out of the thatch of dark hair at Gibbs' groin. He wrapped his fingers around the shaft and it immediately twitched and grew in his palm. Holy hell.

Encouraged by the resulting groan from Gibbs' parted lips, Tony tightened his grip and slowly ran his hand up and down the shaft, thinking that this was just about the hottest thing he'd ever done, made even more hot because this was _Gibbs_. Fuck, he had his hand on _Gibbs' cock_ and, from the sounds Gibbs was making, Tony was doing it right. Not that he didn't know how to handle a cock, but handling another guy's cock was not exactly the same as handling your own. Still, Tony knew what he liked so he made the same moves on Gibbs and Gibbs arched a little and drove his penis into Tony's fist.

Gibbs, his eyes half-closed, hands now clasped behind Tony's neck, swayed a little and growled, "Fuck, yeah, that's good." Encouraged, and feeling a bit bolder, Tony continued to stroke Gibbs' hardening shaft and ran his thumb over the leaking head. He tugged at Gibbs' balls with his other hand, getting off on the way Gibbs dropped his forehead to Tony's shoulder and made such fucking hot sounds in his ear.

"That's good, that's good. I like it slow. More, more...yeah. Yeah, you got it. _Jesus_, that feels so…Tony." Gibbs raised his head, his blue eyes so dark they were unrecognizable. He pulled Tony close and kissed him, his tongue slow and languorous, his hands sliding down to squeeze and caressing Tony's ass.

Tony's penis prodded at Gibbs' thigh, and need made Tony whine into his mouth, and finally, _finally_, Gibbs' hand was on his shaft – long, slow strokes – and Tony almost came from pleasure. He shoved his face in Gibbs' neck and breathed raggedly against his sweat-slick skin while Gibbs stroked his erection. The weird thing was that although this was pretty much the first time Tony had been intimate with someone he cared about, and his whole upper body was flushed with excitement, and he could feel his balls tightening, he felt comfortable in Gibbs' arms. It was as if he was safe for the first time in his life and he actually sobbed before he got hold of his emotion and swallowed it down.

They sank onto the bed, Gibbs half on top of Tony, holding him down. Tony reached up and slipped his fingers through Gibbs's hair and pulled him down. "Fuck me," Tony whispered against his mouth.

Gibbs kissed him with passion and determination, dominating their every movement. His tongue slid across Tony's lips while his free hand ran down Tony's thigh, coercing the younger man to lift his leg.

Tony slid his feet up the sheet, knees high, exposing himself, an invitation for Gibbs to lie between his legs. He stroked Tony's cock, finishing every long, firm stroke with a twist, the edge of his thumb teasing the slit, bringing Tony close to the edge. Tony was moaning and trembling all the while, his heart thrumming in his ears, wondering how much more of this he could take. Gibbs got busy mouthing Tony's nipples and sucking on them until Tony was panting and squirming and crying out, "Jethro, Jethro!"

His mouth, nipples, balls and penis were sucked and kissed and loved by Gibbs, and Tony lay there, helpless against the onslaught on his senses. There was a hand down there, moving over his aching balls, slicked-up fingers rimming his sensitive flesh, rubbing and then intruding, two of them at once. They caused a burn, a welcome pain that was a precursor to a jolt of pleasure so intense that Tony almost came right then and there. Tony begged for more, fiercely telling Gibbs to get on with it but Gibbs proceeded at his own pace.

There was pressure and pain and then Gibbs' cock was inside him. He couldn't catch his breath. _Oh God, oh God!_ "I want…I want…"

Hovering, holding off, Gibbs watched Tony's face intently. "Tell me," he grunted.

"I want all of you," Tony said, hungry for more. "All of you, Jethro." Panting, groaning and pleading, Tony gripped Gibbs's shoulders and wrapped his legs around his waist, arching to get all of him, up to the very hilt, as deep inside him as possible. Gibbs thrust slowly and then faster, and he reached between them to slide his hand along the length of Tony's cock. It only took a couple of strokes and a twist of his hand to get Tony to shudder and cry out, "Fuck! Fuck, I'm cumming," and ejaculate over himself. Tony closed his eyes and collapsed bonelessly, thinking that now he could die happy.

Gibbs continued to pound into Tony's body with a sense of urgency. He stiffened and his shoulders shook when he came deep inside of Tony. Letting his weight settle on top of Tony, he breathed harshly. Gibbs didn't move for a while, just lay there sweating until Tony complained that he was getting squashed. Gibbs hugged Tony tightly and rolled them onto their sides, his softening penis slipping out.

"All of me," Gibbs said. Tony opened his eyes slowly and sent him a questioning look. "You have all of me, Tony," Gibbs said huskily. "I don't have any more to give."

In reply, Tony wrapped his arms around Gibbs's muscular back and hid his face in the crook of his neck. "You're everything to me," Tony whispered, his voice muffled against his lover's damp skin.

«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»

"You okay?"

Tony turned his head a little and looked up at Gibbs' face. "Sure, why not?" He was resting in the warm comforting embrace of Gibbs' arms and he couldn't have been happier.

Gibbs said, "Well, I don't think this is exactly the place either of us thought we'd end up."

"Making love in my bed?" asked Tony, with a grin.

"In _any_ bed." Then Gibbs amended, "And we either need to get you a bigger bed or…"

"Or I move in with you?" The thought of moving in with Gibbs wasn't nearly as scary as it had been a few days ago. Sex and the resulting intimacy does change everything, Tony thought.

"I thought we already settled this," Gibbs teased, repeating Tony's earlier words.

"Only if you're sure," Tony said cautiously.

"I'm damned sure," Gibbs said gruffly.

"I don't want to mess things up for you, at home or at work," Tony said.

"This affects you just as much as it does me." Gibbs threw back the sheet and slid out of bed, saying, "Wait here."

Tony chuckled. "I ain't going nowhere. I don't have the energy to do anything since my boyfriend fucked me into the mattress." Tony watched with lazy interest as Gibbs went over to his pile of clothing, apparently looking for something. He heard a small metallic sound and then Gibbs returned to bed, holding something in his hand.

Tony grinned and Gibbs saw him smiling and asked, "What are you smiling about?"

"Just trying to figure out if I like the view better coming or going," Tony said, leering at Gibbs' cock and balls.

Gibbs smirked and slid back into bed, shifting and rearranging things until they were back in their previous position with Tony lying on his chest.

"So?" Tony asked, trying to pry open Gibbs' hand where he was clutching whatever he'd taken from his pants pocket. For a minute Gibbs put up a fight before giving in. He opened his hand and there, resting on his palm, was what appeared to be a house key. Tony picked it up and looked at Gibbs questioningly.

Gibbs gave a slight shrug and said, "A key to my home."

Tony could tell that this was important to Gibbs but he couldn't help noting, "But you never lock your doors, Jethro."

"Maybe it's time, with you living there. Makes sense; you have that big, expensive TV, wristwatches that cost a month's salary. Not to mention all those designer clothes. Can't leave the front door open to thieves."

"Oh, so this is about being practical, is it?"

"Can't have people walking in on us," Gibbs reasoned.

"Uh huh. Like when we're…watching TV?"

Gibbs peered at the ceiling for a moment and then agreed, "Yeah." He waited a beat and added, "Or when we're fucking on the couch."

Tony couldn't stop laughing. He loved this Gibbs, the man who could walk around naked, bring him to orgasm practically by just looking at him, and be just plain be silly. "I love you, Jethro," he said, finding it so easy to say.

Gibbs handed Tony the key, his expression softening when he looked at Tony with what Tony knew to be love, even if Gibbs couldn't say the words aloud.

But Gibbs, being Gibbs, was full of surprises, so after he kissed Tony softly and turned out the light, he said, low and sweet, "I love you, too, Tony. Always will."

«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»«•»

In the end, Gibbs told Ducky about how he and Tony had fallen in love, moved in together, and would deal with Vance if the day ever came when he found out about them. Not in quite so many words, but Ducky got the gist when Gibbs said, "DiNozzo's at my place now. Keeping it quiet."

Ducky congratulated them and took them out to dinner at a fine restaurant where the waiters sang opera in between courses.

Tony confided in Jimmy Palmer, and told him that he and Gibbs had fallen in love, together, and would deal with Vance if they were ever outed. "I am so fucking in love with him, it's insane, Jimmy, and sometimes I lie there in his arms at night and I think holy hell, how did this ever happen? I mean what a wake-up call. And don't you dare tell anyone and I mean anyone because this really has to be kept quiet, except you're the only one to know, okay?"

Jimmy hugged Tony and couldn't stop grinning all day, making Abby, who witnessed the embrace – and Gibbs glowering at them – ask Jimmy if he and Tony were doing the wild thing.

Several years later, after Ziva had gone back to Israel, and McGee had moved on to head Cyber Crimes and Vance married Rochelle and mellowed a lot, Gibbs and Tony threw a party and invited all of their friends and colleagues – Ducky, Dino Balboa, Jimmy Palmer and Breena, Abby, McGee, Dorneget and Borin, and, of course, Jackson Gibbs and Senior DiNozzo – to a cookout in the back yard of their new house. And when they held hands in front of the sizeable crowd and announced that they had been married at City Hall the day before, nobody seemed very surprised.

Tony and Gibbs kissed while everyone clapped and hooted – although in order to get Gibbs to kiss him in public Tony had had to promise his husband an entire week of wake-up blowjobs while Gibbs drank coffee in bed. Tony didn't let on that it was hardly a hardship to suck Gibbs' cock at any time of the day but he was pretty sure from the sly look on his face that he already knew that. As soon as they had finished kissing, Gibbs moved over to his brand new gas grill (with flavorizer bars and three cooking areas) that was a wedding gift from Tony, and he called out, "Okay, who wants their steak well-done?"

«•»«•»«•» the end «•»«•»«•»


End file.
